Terran Empire: Reap the Whirlwind
by HappyTarget
Summary: Trek mirror universe where the Terran Empire never fell (Complete)
1. Default Chapter

Timeline for Reap the Whirlwind Fan-Fic  
  
2053 - Earth is devastated by World War III  
  
2063 - Warp drive is invented by Zefram Cochrane. First contact with the Vulcans. Contact goes badly and the Vulcan's decide to ignore the primitive savage peoples of Earth.  
  
2064 - Earth begins a crash starship building program using any weapons and shield tech it can beg, borrow, steal, or design. Many early First Contact missions are met with aggression. Earth's governing body, the Terran Council, decides that in order to protect Earth, Earth must become more aggressive.  
  
2126 - Mirak/Lyran blood feud begins.  
  
2156 - Disastrous first contact mission with the xenophobic Romulans. The Romulan/Terran war begins.  
  
2160 - Romulan Wars ended at the battle of Romulus. Terran forces are victorious. Terran Council declares the formation of the Terran Empire. Starfleet is established with a charter "to defend the Empire until death."  
  
2161 - Originally ignoring the vessels of Earth, with the destruction of the Romulan Star Empire at Terran hands, the Vulcans see the writing on the wall and start a crash building program of their own. The Imperials bring the Daedalus class starship into production  
  
2165 - Imperial/Vulcan wars begin  
  
2167 - After massive casualties on both sides and the war sitting at a grinding stalemate, an envoy from the Empire approaches the Vulcan leaders with a proposal. After much deliberation, the Vulcans are admitted in as co leaders in the Terran Empire. Terran Emperor is assassinated in a coup by the Terran Council.  
  
2201 - After many misfires due to bad blood between the two peoples, the Terrans and Vulcans finally put aside their differences and become true partners in the Empire.  
  
2205 - Imperial fleet continues to expand, annexing star systems into the Terran Empire. A Romulan scientist working for the Empire develops the first working cloaking device.  
  
2209 - First contact is made with the Klingon empire by a cloaked Imperial survey craft. This kicks off an extensive covert intelligence-gathering mission, as the Klingon Empire is vast and warlike. The Imperials bring the Constitution class starship into production  
  
2215 - Imperial/Klingon war begins. The Imperial 1st Battle Fleet enters Klingon space. It pushes deep into enemy held territory because of surprise and sheer number of ships used.  
  
2217 - 1st Battle Fleet is stopped short of Qo'noS. War is forced into one of attrition with little change in the lines.  
  
2220 - The newly built 2nd Battle Fleet joins the 1st in Klingon space and begins to roll back the Klingons.  
  
2221 - All of the Klingon Empire is now conquered and under Terran Empire rule. Many vessels and military personnel escape into hiding and engage in a guerrilla campaign that continues to present day.  
  
2230 - Spock is born on Vulcan, son of Sarek and Amanda.  
  
2233 - James T. Kirk is born in Iowa on Earth.  
  
2249 - Spock enters Starfleet Academy.  
  
2250 - Kirk enrolls in Starfleet Academy.  
  
2261 - David Kirk, son of James Kirk and Carol Marcus, is born. Gorn are encountered and intelligence gathering commences.  
  
2265 - Spock becomes the science officer of the Enterprise under the command of Christopher Pike.  
  
2266 - Kirk achieves the rank of Captain by killing his CO, Christopher Pike. He goes on to become one of the most decorated Imperial Captains in history, and his ship, the Constitution class ISS Enterprise NCC 1701 becomes the pride of the Imperial Navy. Imperial/Gorn war begins.  
  
2267 - Imperial navy encounters the Hydran Kingdoms. The methane breathers put up a furious fight, stopping the initial advance into their space cold. This so impresses the Terran Council that they offer the Hydrans full political autonymity within the Empire in exchange for the use of the Hydran military whenever the Empire needed. With the massed ships from the 3rd, 4th, and 5th Fleets in orbit over their homeworld, the Hydran Monarchy could scarce disagree. Besides, it was a far better deal than many other, greater powers had been granted. The Gorn are subjugated by the combined ships of the 1st and 2nd fleets after heavy fighting and losses.  
  
2269 - The Enterprise's latest 5 year mission of long range reconnaissance and conquest ends. The ship puts back to Earth spacedock for a major refit. It is at this time that Spock begins his quest to limit the excesses of the Empire. He is to much in the public eye from being James Kirk's first officer and is placed in prison for his newfound beliefs in order to keep them quiet. The Imperials bring the Marinda class starship into production. Yamato class Battleship is brought into production  
  
2270 - Spock escapes and spreads his teachings across the Empire, gaining many converts. In order to suppress dissent, the Terran Council rules Spock a traitor to the Empire and sentences him to death for sedition. Spock disappears. It is not known weather he was killed or merely went into hiding, but the Terran Council declares that he was killed. Spock's writing is declared seditious and is banned from Terran Empire space. Possession is punishable by death. The Council gives Section 31 special prerogative in its search for all those tainted by Spock's influence. They begin a crackdown that continues to present day.  
  
2271 - Refit Enterprise leaves on a new 5 year mission under now Rear Admiral Kirk.  
  
2276 - Imperial scouts encounter the Lyran and Mirak. Invasion plans begin to form from covert intelligence. Anti missile defense system is designed. All frontline ships receive it in upgrade.  
  
2280 - Imperial/Lyran war begins, Imperial/Mirak war begins. Both species are conquered and brought under Terran Empire domination.  
  
2282 - P'tel is born on Vulcan.  
  
2285 - Imperial researchers David and Carroll Kirk on the Regula 1 weapons design center create the first Genesis device. It is quickly modified to fit into a standard torpedo casing and is fired into the nearby Mutara Nebula, turning it into a colonizable planet. Section 31 is placed in control of this devastating new weapon. It is from then on mounted exclusively on Section vessels. The Imperials bring the Excelsior class starship into production. Lack of missile armed enemies causes the removal of the Anti Missile System. Space saved is used by another phaser mount.  
  
2288 - Thomas Chriton is born in Utopia Planetia, Mars.  
  
2290 - Imperial scouts encounter powerful warships along the outer border of Imperial space. The ships are destroyed at long range by a powerful weapon. Then the ships disappear. A larger force is dispatched to investigate the patrol ships disappearance. Out of three Excelsior class vessels dispatched, only one made it back to report. It was heavily damaged but its sensors records were intact. The mysterious massive silver ships were shrouded in yellow, blue and red lights and they looked vaguely like a Klingon bat'leth. They also disappeared into a subspace tear instead of going to the usual warp drive. No further contact with these ships was recorded for a year. (Subspace tear was eventually found to lead to the subspace tunnel network, which explained how the ISC could attack so far from their home systems)  
  
2291 - Imperial/Interstellar Concordium war begins. The ISC have faster FTL drive and superior ship and weapon designs. The Terran Empire has cloaking and numbers on their side. It is also the first time that the Terran Empire was invaded by an outside force. The ISC ran ragged over nearly 1/2 of Imperial space. As they went, they spoke of peace and all beings living in harmony under the ISC. Quite a few planets that they conquered thought that peace and harmony was far preferable to living under TE rule. These were either cleansed or the population left when the ISC pulled out of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants.  
  
b2293/b - El-Aurians are forced from their home by Borg invasion. Some make it to Imperial space.  
  
2294 - El-Aurians are declared a class A threat to the Terran Empire. They are ordered killed on sight.  
  
2298 - The ISC are eventually driven off by the use of Genesis torpedoes on their systems and fleets. The remaining ISC ships disappear into their subspace tears and are not heard from again. The Empire begins reconstruction efforts. The process is speeded by the extensive use of Romulan and Klingon slave labor. The Imperials bring the Constellation class starship into production.  
  
2305 - Thomas Chriton takes command of the ISS Reaper by assassinating his CO.  
  
2320 - Terran engineers and head Starfleet personnel's attitudes change. As a result, all work on new fighters and carriers is halted.  
  
2327 - The Cardassian Union is encountered. Invasion plans begin. The Imperials bring the Ambassador and New Orleans class starships into production. P'tel goes to Starfleet Academy.  
  
2333 - Imperial/Cardassian war begins. 2nd Conquest Fleet invades Cardassian space under the command of Admiral Thomas Chriton. The ships arrayed against the Imperials are of low quality and are crushed fairly easily. Cardassian home world and core worlds are cleansed  
  
2334 - Cardassian union is conquered, bringing its territories under Imperial control. P'tel leaves Starfleet.  
  
2340 - Worf is born into slavery on the Klingon homeworld.  
  
2346 - Akira class is put into production.  
  
2351 - Galaxy and Nebula classes are put into production. Heavy Photon launcher is developed. With the massive Galaxy and bigger plans on the drawing board, Starfleet petitions the Council for deploying a new class of Station, one big enough to accommodate the monster ships.  
  
2352 - Peter "Humpty" O'tole is born on Orion.  
  
2358 - First Bengal class Starbases are deployed at Terra, Vulcan, Alpha Centauri and Hydra Prime. Follow on bases at strategic locations throughout the empire begin construction  
  
2360 - Ulysses Vanguard is born on the cargo vessel Oberon. Worf is recruited by the Klingon Resistance.  
  
2365 - Selon Vanguard is executed by a Section 31 purity squad.  
  
2366 - Quantum Torpedo is developed. Retrofit on all capital ships and starbases begins  
  
2368 - Ambassador class ISS Voyager discovers the subspace tunnel network. Shortly there after, the Dominion is encountered by long range Imperial scouts. Invasion plans begin to take shape. Defiant class is put into production. Pulse Phaser Cannons are developed. Ablative armor is developed.  
  
2369 - P'tel rejoins Starfleet  
  
2370 - Imperial/Dominion war begins. Founder's planet and many other key planets in the Dominion are cleansed in a surprise attack. With the loss of their Founder "Gods", the Jem'Hadar become an erratic opponent. Some sink into a deep depression and many kill themselves for allowing it to happen. But over 2/3rds of the Dominion's forces attack in a rage of retribution. Phaser Lance is developed. Retrofit on all Galaxy classes begins  
  
2372 - With little or no military coordination and many of the Vorta coming over to the Terran Empire, the remaining Dominion forces still loyal to the surviving Founders flee into the subspace tunnels and disappear. First contact is made with the Borg. Discreet surveillance of Borg activities commences. Production of the Intrepid and Sovereign class ships begins  
  
2373 - Extensive upgrades in Imperial vessel designs are put in place. Designs of the Wraith, Steamrunner, Norway and Saber class ships are finalized and rushed into production. Peter O'tole gains leadership of the Orion Cartel. Cartels approach the subject non-humans of the Terran Empire with a proposition.  
  
2375 - Imperial/Borg war begins. 100,000 starships are lost, but the attack is a success. Surprise attack on the Borg Unimatrix using Genesis torpedoes causes the Borg to become erratic. What follows is informally known as the Great Turkey Shoot of '75. 24th Fleet, under Fleet Admiral Chriton, was the spearhead of the Imperial assault. The Phalanx Photon is developed. Cartels begin to produce ships and munitions for what is commonly known among its members as the Grand Alliance.  
  
2376 - Ulysses Vanguard goes to Starfleet Academy.  
  
2377 - The sheer scale of Borg space made rapid victory over the confused drones impossible. Then, without warning, the Borg began to reactivate. Their tactics changed. Instead of charging in among a superior enemy, the Borg began to lay traps. Instead of fighting to the last cube, they fought holding actions while inflicting casualties on Imperial ships. They also began to be able to use their holding beams through the upgraded Imperial shields. As a result, the Borg begin to push Imperial fleets out of their space. Imperial scientists built the first regenerative shield. Pulse Phaser Ball Turrets are developed. Ensign Ulysses Vanguard is assimilated by the Borg.  
  
2379 - Attack on second Borg Unimatrix succeeds. Borg numbers dwindled to low to allow them to recover against the weight of Imperial ships closing in on them from all sides. Prometheus, Aegean and Nova class' are authorized for production. Ablative armor generators are developed (Essentially regenerating armor. While not as effective as either plain ablative armor (Because it is thicker and denser) or shields (because they regenerate faster), it is an invaluable second line of defense after shields have been breached. Only used on capital vessels at this time.) To help increase the amount of firepower brought against Borg targets, the fighter/carrier combo again makes an appearance in the Imperial order of battle after a long hiatus. Ulysses Vanguard is released from the collective.  
  
2381 - Final Borg vessel in the Delta Quadrant is destroyed. Borg are declared wiped out by the Terran Council. Terran Empire begins to rebuild after the devastation wrought by the Imperial/Borg war. A flood of Borg tech fills Section 31 and other military research stations. Much of it is used to jump start the Empire's rebuilding plans. Bastion class monitors designed and put into production.  
  
2382 - Quantum Slipstream Drive is acquired from a conquered Delta Quad species. Refit begins on all surviving front line vessels. First workable phase cloaking device is developed. It is added to the refit of Bastion class ships of the Terra Defense Fleet and those in the Vulcan Defense Fleet. It is also installed in all Section 31 Black Fleet vessels, including the Black Fleet's uprated flagship, the Bastion class BFV Damocles. Grand Alliance ship construction continues unabated and undetected.  
  
2387 - PRESENT DAY - Borg tech has allowed the Imperial Fleet to rebuild to almost 2/3s its per war strength. But there are still large areas that are lightly patrolled or have no patrols at all. In all areas of Imperial space, the subject populations begin more and more open revolt towards the excessive control of the Terran Empire. In order to maintain order, the Terran Council needs a new enemy to focus the populace's attention away from their subservient positions. Deep in a fragmented Borg database, they found their enemy.  
  
Yet much closer to home in the Empire, from the shadows strike nebulous attackers. The combined, hidden Grand Alliance fleets total only 2/3rds of the total Imperial fleet. Once the attack begins, the force balance will rapidly shift to even closer to equal. The ships of the alliance have new weapons and technologies developed from their ancient counterparts. And the time is nearing for them to strike. 


	2. Tech

- Revised and Expanded Terran Empire Technology -  
  
PPC vs. Phaser Array - In the Terran Empire universe, the Phaser Array causes more continuous damage to shields and regenerating armor than a PPC volley of similar time span would (PPC bolts allow shields and armor a chance to regenerate slightly between bolts). This is oftentimes offset because current Mk.'s of PPC recharge their capacitors fully in between every bolt, allowing them to fire continuously as long as they are powered. The reason they are not standard weapons on all ships is due to the fact that Phaser Arrays have 2x the range of current PPC's and are more easily varied for a multitude of tasks (wide beam planetary bombardment, boring (melting shafts into planetary bodies) capabilities, greater NDF effect on targets, etc.) than a PPC is capable of.  
  
Guided Weapons vs. Energy Weapons - Terran Empire universe guided weapons generally only have a fraction of the destructive potential of standard energy weapons. Their main advantages are seeking ability and engagement range. They can home in on evading enemy targets, scoring significantly greater hits than PPC's and Phaser Arrays on small, fleet targets. Their max range is most often at least 5x the range of a Phaser Array. Unless they are used in numbers against an enemy, they are primarily used for generating weak points, or small kinks, in enemy shields for follow up phaser strikes to target.  
  
- Shipboard Weapons -  
  
- Phaser Lance - - Essentially just a massively oversized phaser. Similar to the one under the future Enterprise-D's saucer section in TNG "All Good Things". Capable of punching through to the core of a planet in a single sustained shot, causing massive damage. Requires half a minute recharge time after full power continuous firing. Due to the large size of this weapon, only larger capital ships can mount it (Galaxy Class and upwards). Anything smaller than an Akira is completely destroyed by one shot, and most things the size of an Akira up to a Sovereign being hit by this weapon will suffer moderate to heavy damage and total loss of facing shields. Normal yield per beam is ~1000 GT.  
  
- Type XV Phaser Array - - Designed by Terran Empire engineers to combat the Borg. Autoremodulates beam frequency twice as fast as the highest known rate of Borg adaptation. Does about the same level of damage to Borg ships as a standard Trek Sovereign phaser array does to regular (non Borg) opponents. Does about 50% greater damage than Sovereign phaser array to non Borg targets. Same capacitor recharge time as seen in TNG "BOBW" under normal power generation conditions. The longer the generating Phaser strip, the longer the sustained fire before allowing capacitor recharge. GCS main phaser arrays can fire continuously for 10 seconds before capacitor is drained. Normal yield per five second, single beam burst is ~22 GT. Bastion phaser arrays are 100 GT per second.  
  
- Pulse Phaser Cannon (Ball Turret Mount) - - Basically a standard Pulse Phaser Cannon mounted in a turret to give it greater useable arcs of fire. Terran Empire PPCs are all 35% greater in damage caused to targets. Arc of BT mount varies depending on where it is placed, but is generally at least 90 degrees and usually less than 120 degrees. Fire rate in TE vessels is the same as seen in DS9s Defiant, but sustainable continuously under normal power generation conditions. Range is only ½ that of Type XV Phaser Array. Normal yield per bolt is ~3 GT.  
  
- Heavy Photon Torpedo - - Picture a torpedo casing the size of a shuttle filled with antimatter. Can be used as a standard Matter/Antimatter explosive, but is generally preferred to be used as an Antimatter delivery device, (warhead filled with AM only used against unshielded targets, using the targets own matter to combine with the AM in the warhead to create the explosion.) due to its low speed, low maneuverability and resulting high vulnerability to anti missile fire. Usually used as a coup de grace shot against starships, as a heavy weapon against starbases after their facing shield is dropped, or as a planetary attack weapon after planetary shields are down. Slow refire rate of once a minute and bulky launcher generally limit this weapon for use solely on Starbases and the biggest capital ships. Generally one hit by this torp on anything smaller than a Nebula class will result in instant catastrophic damage (M/AM usage). Nebula sized and above will generally loose facing shields and sustain moderate damage, but most vessels that are operational can usually either destroy this torp or avoid it, hence its use generally on immobilized, shieldless targets. AM usage yield is ~600 GT. M/AM usage yield is ~300 GT  
  
- Quantum Torpedo - - Developed as a weapon to fight the Borg the Quantum Torpedo is about the same size as the venerable photon it replaced in the TE fleet. Its destructive potential is 3x greater than the standard photon, and since it uses a zero point energy explosion as its warhead, there is no chance for the Borg to adapt to it ahead of time as its explosive frequency is unknown till the explosion occurs. Mounted on all new TE ships as standard. Older vessels can be modified to carry this munition during minor refits and overhauls. Torpedo can be set for proximity detonation at expense of warhead damage to target. Standard yield is ~950 MT. Proximity yield varies due to distance of explosion from target, but generally ~400 MT to 800 MT.  
  
- Phalanx Quantum Torpedo - - A 1/8 sized version of the standard Quantum torpedo. Torp size is 1/8 scale and so is warhead yield. Use primarily as an anti fighter weapon, but used in large numbers it can still hurt capital ships. Torp tube load time is less than one second. Usually mounted in tandem with a dual PPC-BT mount in a PD cluster. Usually mounted in a turret to give maximum coverage. Standard yield is ~119 MT.  
  
- Mauler Device - - Developed originally in secret by the Romulans and shared with the rest of the Grand Alliance powers who wanted it, this weapon has slightly shorter range and 3x the recharge time but 1.5x the firepower as a Phaser Lance. It is also a lot bulkier than the Phaser Lance, citing that smaller ships mount it almost exclusively, at the expense of other weapons systems and crew compartments(in essence the smaller vessels that mount it are basically designed around the Mauler Device), and larger vessels mount it in more limited numbers than a similarly sized TE vessel would have Phaser Lances. Standard yield per beam is ~1500 GT.  
  
- Drone Missile - - Developed by the Mirak Star League and refined in secret during the years of TE occupation, this weapon now is considerably faster than a starship at full impulse and each individual missile mounts armor and rudimentary shields to increase survivability against phaser arrays. Usually launched in swarms to swamp current generation PD. Usually have ECM drones seeded in with warhead salvos to further confuse targeted vessels sensors. Normal yield is ~500 MT.  
  
- Expanding Sphere Generator - - Developed by the Lyran Star Empire and refined in secret during the years of TE occupation, this weapon creates an highly energized spherical field around the generating vessel. This field stops all known missile and torpedo weaponry, and can be used to destroy shuttles and fighters if they collide with it. Can also be used to allow ramming tactics, as contact with the field will cause severe damage even to starships. Can be set for varying radiuses from the generating vessel, but the farther out it is generated, the less powerful it is. Damage with small (1) radius is ~750 GT. Damage with a medium (2) radius is ~500 GT. Damage with a large (3) radius is ~250 GT. Recharge time one minute per ESG apparatus.  
  
- ESG Lance - - Expansion of ESG tech. It allows a micro ESG bubble to be sent long distances to a far away target. Micro ESG bubble has the same damage potential as a standard ESG set for the closest, most powerful setting. Range is about the same as a Mauler Device.  
  
- Plasma Torpedo - - Sends a ball of energized plasma towards the enemy. Speed is similar to a Quantum Torpedo but the damage potential is slightly higher against non Borg targets. Against Borg targets, the torp gains no advantages against adaptation as the Borg can usually detect the frequency of the torp and adapt to it. Reload time is slightly longer than a standard Quantum tube. Can be set for shotgun mode, splitting the single large energy torp into ten smaller energy torps for use against fighters and shuttles. Old versions lost energy throughout their flight till the totally dissipated, and were only slightly faster than enemy ships. Latest versions have a special energy field encasing the plasma allowing full power shot to be maintained throughout engagement range. Once at the end of engagement range, the encasing field fails catastrophically, collapsing the torp. Range is about 3/4 that of a Phaser array. Reload time per torp is about 40 seconds but up to 10 torps can be held in most launchers to be fired as needed. Energy intensive weapon, requiring a hefty power core to operate effectively. On smaller ships, this usually means that things like shield reinforcement and ECM must be either limited or totally abstained from during reloading. Can be overloaded at the expense reducing of max range to ~1/2 that of a Phaser array. Normal yield is ~1 GT. Overloaded yield is ~2 GT.  
  
- Disruptors - - Developed originally by the Romulans and Klingons. Bolts of energy that usually have close to a 1 second burst from a PPC in firepower. Heavy versions can be overloaded to carry near double Quantum torp levels in damage, but they sacrifice refire rate to do so. Normal Disruptors refire at 4-second intervals, with the Heavy version refireing at 7 seconds normally and 10 seconds overloaded. There is also a rapid- fire version that has about the same ROF as a PPC, but each individual bolt does ~10% more damage than a PPC bolt. Normal yield per bolt is ~20 GT. Heavy yield per bolt is ~30 GT. Rapid-fire yield per bolt is ~10 GT.  
  
- Plasmatic Pulsar Device - - Developed by the Interstellar Concordium. Weapon range and damage are virtually the same as a Phaser Lance. Weapon sends a carrier beam to target first, doing no damage. Then waves of plasma follow the carrier beam down to the target. Newer versions feature more waves per use than older ones, and they now have the ability to envelope enemy vessels, enabling the PPD to not only do full damage to facing shields, but also do 1/3 damage to adjacent shields (ex. Facing shield is fore, PPD does full damage to fore, but also does 1/3 damage to port, starboard, ventral and dorsal shields). Normal yield is ~250 GT per plasma wave, with most current PPD's throwing out 5 waves per activation for a total yield of ~1000 GT per attack on facing shield and ~250 GT "splash" damage on surrounding shields.  
  
- Breen Energy Dampening Weapon - - Only Recently Developed, the weapon leaches all energy generated by an enemy starship, causing all systems to become inoperative for close to an hour. This is usually plenty of time to deal with the enemy vessel once its weapons, engines and shields have failed. Recharge time is 5 minutes per weapon mount. Other than the leach effect, this weapon does no only minimal damage to the target. Aside from power drain effect, normal yield is ~0.5 KT.  
  
- Fusion Beams - - Developed by the TE's client state, the Hydran Kingdoms. A stream of excited tritium and deuterium nuclei are projected to the target. The nuclei fuse and become helium nuclei, releasing tremendous amounts of energy at the moment of contact. Almost suicidaly short ranged, the Fusion Beam requires close to a minute cooling time between shots. Damage is ~750 GT at normal, ~1000 GT at overloaded and ~1500 GT when suicide overloaded (weapon mount melts down after firing as cooling system cannot handle the massive temperatures that much firepower causes). Cannot be used as a planetary assault weapon due to short range unless ship drops down into the planet's atmosphere first.  
  
- Hellbore Cannons - - Developed by the TE's client state, the Hydran Kingdoms. High velocity fusion bomb that utilizes a special containment field. This field causes the fusion explosion to wrap around a target, thus enabling the weapon to target the most damaged shields on an enemy even if they are not the arc facing the initial point of impact. Due to its speed, the Hellbore is considered a direct fire weapon similar to a phaser. Damage is ~712 MT with reload times of 10 seconds per cannon.  
  
- Psychonic Attack - - Using extreme mind conditioning and both bio and cyber augmentation, Section 31 is capable of creating a powerful telepathic being that can be used to generate a Psychonic attack. This attack, when directed at a enemy vessel within visual range, causes ship wide temporary insanity and paranoia, resulting in the enemy crew attacking each other and damaging ships systems. As a result of Section 31's conditioning and implanted mental imperatives, the beings that are made into telepathic weapons generally are lacking in personal hygiene, mental capacity and social abilities.  
  
- Genesis Torpedo - - Perfected by Dr. David Kirk, son of Dr. Carroll Marcus and Fleet Admiral James Kirk, on the Regula One weapons development facility, the Genesis Torpedo reformats the surface of a world to whatever its matrix was programmed with. Everything from single celled organisms to plants to animals of all kinds can be created out of the reconstituted matter of the target. Prime means of eliminating Borg infested worlds and, in conjunction with planet placement (towing a planet or planetoid to a desired spot using Battlecruiser sized vessels), generating new M-class planets for colonization. Due to depletion of stockpile against Borg and destruction of Regula One by Grand Alliance forces, there are currently only a handful of Genesis Torpedoes available and it will be years (as of 2387) before any new ones are produced.  
  
- Self Replicating Mine - - Can be outfitted with a gravitonic warhead, slowing targeted ships STL speed. TE version is usually outfitted with a shuttle sized ZPE warhead of 500 GT yield. Can be sent to subspace to remain hidden till needed/activated by a nearby enemy vessel. Mine can make a duplicate of itself up to 100 times before loss of replication reagents causes replication system to go offline. (eg. Mine self- replicates just before destruction, then the next mine does the same, then the next mine does the same, etc. x 100)  
  
- Shipboard Defenses[/b][/I]  
  
In the Terran Empire universe (in general terms), the larger a vessel is, the more power it can generate. This in turn affects things like power available to shield emitters and weapons systems. Thus, the larger a vessel is, the stronger its shields are and the more spare power it will have for other uses after powering its shields.  
  
- Cloaking Device - - Standard cloaking device used to hide ships from normal sensor systems and the naked eye. Reduces sensor range while in use. Vulnerable to Tachyon Detection systems, either fixed beam networks or tactical ranged sensors on starships. Active shields and weapons capacitors leak energy through the cloak, negating its effectiveness nearly completely. Guided weapons can be fired while cloaked, but modern starship sensors can easily trace the weapons impulse trail back to the defenseless but cloaked vessel, usually resulting in easy kills of the cloaked attacker.  
  
- Multiphaseic (Phase) Cloaking Device - - Advanced cloaking device seeing limited use in TE's Starfleet and Section 31 vessels. Allows phase cloaked vessel to pass through most normal materials without incident, makes the vessel totally invulnerable to both conventional weaponry and all known sensor systems. Severely limits sensor range while in use. Takes a long time (in a tactical sense, and the larger the phased ship, the longer the process of phasing and unphasing takes) to unphase a vessel, meaning it is vulnerable to fire for a long period of time in a normal engagement before it can bring up defenses and power weapons. Phased objects need to be unphased to interact with normal matter again (eg. phased shuttles docked in a phased ships shuttle bay cannot simply fly out the shuttle bay doors and reappear in normal space unphased, the Multiphaseic Cloaking Device must be activated at reverse polarity to unphase cloak an object that has been phase cloaked.)  
  
- Tachyon Anti Cloak Sensor Arrays - - Sensors, largely developed by reverse engineering Dominion and Borg anti cloak sensor arrays, that can detect cloaked vessels. Useable range is limited to the tactical envelope and only gives a general direction and distance to contact, allowing a fleet or defensive emplacements to saturate an area with fire to kill cloaked enemy vessels (due to the fact that active shields and armor generators would give away the ships position even in spite of the cloaks effects). Systems are generally bulky and are usually only mounted on Akira sized hulls and above. Power intensive even on most TE vessels, meaning that shields are usually unable to recharge while the sensor array is in use.  
  
- Spaceborn Warning And Control (SWAC) Pod - - Most often employed on Nebula Class Battlecruisers (due to their mission changeable pod) but can be mounted on other starships during a shipyard layover or refit. Long range anti cloak and normal sensors. Expanded communications and datalink capabilities, allowing for target information to be transmitted to the rest of the Fleet faster and more reliably than would otherwise be the case.  
  
- Ablative Armor - - Mounted standard on all TE starships. This is a layer added to the exterior hull of a vessel that sacrifices itself to protect what is underneath. After battle, this is usually in need of at least minor repairs. Able to stop ~50 GT per cm.  
  
- Regenerative Shields - - Standard shields of nearly all TE starships. These shields regenerate themselves considerably faster than a normal shield would, allowing damaged shield arcs to be boosted back up to full power rapidly without having to divert extra power to reinforce them. Able to stop ~100 GT per full charge (Akira class energy generation)  
  
- Ablative Armor Generators - - Mounted on most new TE starships and added via starbase and repair yards to older vessels during refits. These generators combine transporter, replicator and nanite technology to create regenerating ablative armor. While the regeneration ability is not very fast, the armor itself is the next generation, providing slightly better protection once deployed than standard ablative armor. Able to stop ~55 GT per cm.  
  
- Reinforced Structural Integrity Field - - Mounted on some TE capital ships, this modification allows equipped ships to survive and continue to fight after suffering damage that would have destroyed other starships of the same class not equipped with the RSIF  
  
- Internal Armored Bulkheads - - added armor used around nerve centers on a starship, like Slipstream Drive Cores, Flag and Main Bridge and Heavy Weapons Emplacements.  
  
- ECM Drones - - Computer controlled drones that can nearly perfectly mimic the sensor profile and visual look of any known starship, station or similarly sized spatial body using top of the line Electronic Countermeasures and holo technology. Can generate single contact for larger vessels per drone, and multiple contacts for smaller vessels. Used in conjunction with shipboard ECM/ECCM suites to provide using fleet/starship with greater protection. Can even simulate weapons fire, though weapons do no damage when they hit.  
  
- Emergency Tactical Hologram - - Computer controlled security holograms. Invulnerable to normal weapons. Used almost solely in boarding actions against superior number and/or capability opponents.  
  
- Remote Shield Reinforcement Generators - - Recent TE development. Uses special generators mounted on one starship to provide at least double shield strength to other nearby allied ships in the fleet. Generating vessel itself doesn't receive benefit from this, even if used in tandem with another generating vessel. This is a side effect due to the Generators operation. With the Generators offline, the vessel will become eligible for reinforcement just like any other vessel, but it will not provide reinforcement to other vessels itself. If two or more generating ships are used in close proximity, the shield boost itself isn't increased, just its area of effect. Adds an extra ~300 GT per shield arc of protection (Akira class target energy generation).  
  
- General Shipboard Tech -  
  
Ship classes in the Terran Empire universe are as follows from smallest to largest.  
  
Shuttle (eg. Type 9) Fighter/Runabout/Scout (Cobra Fighter) Frigate (Saber) Destroyer (Defiant) Cruiser (Soulwolf) Battlecruiser (Akira) Battleship (Galaxy) Super Dreadnought (Wraith) Monitor (Bastion)  
  
On general terms, any single vessel from a smaller class would have great difficulty in taking out any single vessel from the next larger class. Their hulls are usually to small to mount enough weapons and powerful enough shields to allow it to deal out sufficient damage to the larger enemy before the larger, more powerful vessel destroys the smaller one.  
  
This means that most smaller vessels are used in swarm tactics, putting out enough firepower on multiple platforms that the larger enemy will be destroyed before it picks off no more than a handful of the lighter units. The wider the gap between classes, the greater the numbers required for successful completion of a swarm attack. Smaller classes are, on the whole, more maneuverable than vessels in the bigger size classes, often times enabling them to oftentimes dodge fire when done in conjunction with active ECM to further throw off enemy aim. The smaller the class, the better able they are to dodge enemy fire.  
  
Starbases are most often require equivalent to 3x their class size warship analogue in firepower to be taken out due to free space acquired by removal of most if not all STL and FTL drive ability from their size class norm.  
  
Most vessels of Akira sized and above carry multiple power cores (Warp or Slipstream) for added power and redundancy.  
  
Max Impulse is 75 PSL. Smaller vessels take less time to get there and are usually able to go slightly above 75 PSL. As a general rule, the smaller a vessel is, the faster STL speed it is capable of in emergency situations. Max STL speed attainable by any known starship is 80 PSL due to internal compensator limits. Any higher speed and the slightest bump could cause compensator failure with messy results for the ships crew. Compensator reliability is a shallow curve towards failure till you get near 80 PSL. Then reliability drops off sharply. Compensator failure is exceedingly rare under 80 PSL. It is exceedingly common above 80 PSL.  
  
- Flag Bridge Holo Display System - - Combination of astrometrics and holodeck technology. Essentially turns the Flag Bridge of a starship into a scaled down holodeck. Used to provide fleet commanders with the best, most detailed information on enemy and allied fleet dispositions. Used in conjunction with a set of sensor imbedded gloves, the CO can call up info and give orders rapidly and easily. Recently developed and is being incorporated into the refit schedule of all command vessels from Squadron level clear up to Fleet level.  
  
- Hyper Com - - Once the TE began to get really big, R&D began to work on a longer ranged version of the standard subspace com. The end result is the Hyper Com, allowing near instantaneous communication across up to ¾ of the Galaxy.  
  
- Quantum Slipstream Drive - - New high speed FTL drive given as a gift to the TE by a species in the Delta Quadrant in gratitude for eliminating the Borg threat. Equipped vessels are capable of crossing the known Galaxy in a matter of weeks instead of many years at warp speeds and many months using Subspace Corridors. All major fleets in Starfleet currently have this drive or are in the process of getting one during their next refit. Sector patrol units have been deemed unnecessary to receive this warp drive replacement.  
  
- Subspace Corridors - - Similar to Borg transwarp corridors but appear to be a natural occurrence throughout the explored Galaxy. Set up as a chaotic web like network whose pathways must be plotted in order for orderly traffic to use them. Slightly lower in speed than Borg Transwarp, but naturally occurring so there is no need for massive transwarp gates to be built and maintained. Usual means of most Starfleet (until QSS drives become the norm) and Civilian long distance travel.  
  
- Warp Field Inhibitors - - All vessels Cruiser sized and above have these devices. When active, they prevent Warp Field Bubble formation over a fairly large area (close to solar system in size). While Subspace Corridors can still be used for FTL travel while this device is active, one could only enter and exit corridors along their path, and all known paths terminate outside of the final planet in a system.  
  
- Borg STL Drive - - Currently fresh out of R&D and only in use on the TE Bastion Class Monitor ISS Athena. Basically the same drive used on a Borg Cube, giving the Spacedock sized Athena considerably more maneuverability and STL drive redundancy thanks to its dispersed, part of the hull matrix, design than the other, Impulse drive powered Monitors. Currently in refit plans for all TE Monitors and some Wraith class Battleships  
  
- Ground Weaponry -  
  
Ground troops are not used as extensively in the Terran Empire as they are in the 21st century. This is mainly due to the fact that one usually has to drop at least part of a planetary shield to land ground troops. Only starships possess enough firepower to bring them down (eventually). But if a starship controls the high orbitals unopposed, it can rain down much greater firepower than any ground-based force can on another. A singe Terran Empire Cruiser can melt the entire upper crust of a planet in less than half an hour of bombardment. But seeing as how most parties want to keep planetary bodies as intact as possible, especially M-class worlds (before Genesis torpedoes became prevalent as both a means to eliminate hostile natives and set up idyllic settings for Terran colonization), this is usually an option of last resort.  
  
Fortunately for ground units, modern cammo skins and ECM allow them to operate with relative freedom on a planetary body that an enemy whom controls the high orbitals wants taken intact. There is still a place for ground warfare in the Terran Empire universe, it just usually takes a back seat to planetary fleet engagements (whichever fleet wins in orbit usually decides who gets the planet. If no nearby fleets are available, and the enemy will eventually break through the shield before help arrives, locals are to destroy shield stations and surrender to the enemy rather than have the planet turned into a lifeless husk. Boarding actions are another matter. They require the best protection and weaponry an individual can have. As a result, the Terran Empire developed an array of weapons and the Power Armor Suit (basically a strap on tank) to aid in the successful boarding of enemy vessels.  
  
It is often hard to accomplish unwelcome planet fall as even remote colonies have at the minimum 100,000 GT capacity theater shields, more often full light planetary shield networks in place.  
  
- Grav Gun - - Standard weapon of Terran Empire Marine and Army Armored Infantry. Designed incorporating gravity generation tech and rail gun tech, it fires smart projectiles at Mach 15 thanks to its gravity puller rings. Ammo available is Armor Piercing, High Explosive and Flechette. AP is basically a pinky sized solid duranium penetrator with micro impulse engine boosters to punch through most known armors. Mostly used against tanks and APCs and against assault shuttles. HE version contains a few grains of suspended antimatter and matter. When it either contacts or is in close proximity to the target, the magnetic fields holding the two apart collapse and release the violent energies of a micro M/AM explosion. Mostly used against power armor and unpowered heavy combat armor. Flechette rounds send out a cloud of razor sharp metal slivers at Mach 15, creating the modern equivalent of a pre WW3 shotgun. Varying choke setting can be chosen, from close to 3 meters spread at 20 feet to 3 cm spread at 20 feet. Mostly used against unarmored or lightly armored targets and for crowd control.  
  
- Power Combat Armor - - Standard armor in use by all major TE infantry units. Consists of Duranium main structure with Ablative Armor plate overlays. Its synthetic musculature allows the suit to give the infantry close to four times the strength of a normal human. This allows for nasty things like punching straight through bulkheads and sealed doors. In addition to the armor of the suit, it also comes equipped with an low grade forcefield, allowing it to stop a few rounds from a grav gun or a sustained 10 second shot from a maxed out phaser. The suit is completely self contained and with a full charge can run at combat levels for 24 hours without need of recharge. Inside, it provides all the amenities one would find in a long shift work space suit (waste removal, nutrient laced water, puréed meals, etc.) Sensors are modifiable, but generally include 360 degree low light, infrared, X-ray and zoom optical modes. Also included are all the functions of a standard tricorder but with enhanced range and short range anti cloak sensors. All sensor data is projected onto a HUD in the suits helmet, along with damage, ammo and power levels. The AG boots of the armor are capable of giving limited flight to a user (a la Spock's boots in ST:V) All suits come equipped with both personal cloaking devices and chameleon cammo skin whose camouflage pattern or stealth effect the user can alter at will. They also contain an extensive (for a personal unit) ECM/ECCM suite to defeat sensors both from ground and space based sites. Powered by Fusion reactor.  
  
- Pulse Phaser Heavy Carbine - - Heavy weapon of choice in the modern TE Marines and Army Infantry. Capable of extreme destruction of both ground and air targets, this 1/38th scale and power version of the starship weapon is extremely deadly in the hands of someone who knows how to operate it effectively. While current models are susceptible to overheating under continuous use, they are powerful enough to take out most Main Battle Tanks and Assault Shuttles and even pose a risk to light starships flying in atmosphere if used against them in numbers. What they do to Infantry, even ones in power armor, is truly gruesome.  
  
- Bladed Weaponry - - During the TE's war against the Borg, fighting against hordes of Drones soon devolved into melee ranged phaser rifle but and dagger vs. Drone exoskeleton. As a result, many security personnel and infantry units soon adopted a rather archaic weapon set as secondary weapons, namely blades. The bladed and club like weaponry were highly successful against Borg adaptation as a Drone's personal shielding was only effective at stopping energy weaponry. Soon a virtual cornucopia of custom made great swords and battleaxes found their way into shipboard and planetary armories. Although they now pose little use in the current battlefield, those who used them refused to give them up, and in a pitched close quarters battle, they have saved many a trooper's life. The weapons are made of an intensely strong and resilient alloy and sharpened to single molecule sharpness, allowing them to hack through most objects like a hot knife through butter. Some are even more advanced, having billions of tiny serrated edges on the blade edge and motors in their handles that cause the blade to vibrate at hypersonic velocities, creating a chainsaw like effect that actually helps pull the blade through a target. An unenhanced human can fell a large tree in a single stroke with one of these blades.  
  
- T-69S Sniper Rifle - - Standard long rifle currently in frontline TE service. Capable of firing a Grav Gun bullet as far as the scope's line of sight at Mach 25, or if situation allows transport the bullet to targets up to the same distance. The gun is fully silenced and bullet is coated in special layer to prevent visible trail from being left in its wake due to the extreme atmospheric speed it travels at. Usually able to take out a power armored infantry soldier in one shot.  
  
- Fury Power Armor - - Exact capabilities are classified ( ( ), but it is assured that both humanoid and canine versions are more capable than standard power armor in strength, armor and shield stopping power, armament and sensors.  
  
- Hyper Velocity Missile[/b][/I] - Infantry weapon designed for destruction of armor units while causing minimal damage to the surrounding countryside. Basically an impulse engine mated with an armor piercing nose cone. The missile is launched from an apparatus similar to ancient Bazookas. Once it clears 15 m from the launcher, the missile brings its internal impulse drive online and accelerates to 90 PSL within a quarter of a second. The kinetic impact delivered to armor units is usually sufficient to pierce shields and often armor, but multiple strikes may be required on current MBT's.  
  
- Assault Shuttle - - Varying designs of large, armed and armored shuttles used to ferry troops and vehicles to the front lines of battle and provide close air support when needed.  
  
- Drop Ship - - Varying designs of Frigate sized, heavily shielded and armored cargo ships used to bring large amounts of troops and vehicles down to a hostile planet.  
  
- Conquistador Armored Personnel Carrier - - Standard frontline Armored Personnel Carrier (APC) in Terran Empire Army and Marine arms. It can carry up to 20 fully equipped Powered Combat Armored Infantry into battle. The Conquistador is protected by both cloak and cammo skin as well as high powered ECM/ECCM units. Its shields and armor can protect it from at least a few rounds from a Main Battle Tank or a few seconds of fire from a Frigate's weapons. It has a single rapid-fire PPC turret and four Grav Guns in 180-degree turrets mounted front, back, left and right, for self defense. Powered by M/AM reactor. Both Anti-Gravity and track propulsion.  
  
- Conquistador Mobile Command Post - - Standard frontline Mobile Command Post (MCP) in Terran Empire Army and Marine arms. High-speed data nets and communication systems are standard, giving ground commanders a detailed holographic map of the evolving battlefield, including both allied and detected enemy units. The Conquistador is protected by both cloak and cammo skin as well as high powered ECM/ECCM units. Its shields and armor can protect it from at least a few rounds from a Main Battle Tank or a few seconds of fire from a Frigate operating in atmosphere. It has a rapid- fire PPC and quad Grav Guns mounted in main turret for self-defense. Powered by M/AM reactor. Both AG and track propulsion.  
  
- Viking Mobile AAA Battery - - Standard frontline AAA Battery in Terran Empire Army and Marine arms. The Viking is a modified Conquistador chassis with all space usually given up to internal troop transport filled with Phalanx Micro-Quantum torpedoes. 12 are launched in a volley, then the Viking usually relocates to prevent destruction due to the enemy following the initial track of its weaponry back to itself. The Phalanx launcher is mounted in a turret and while primary used against air targets, the Phalanx torpedoes can and often do attack nearby ground targets of opportunity. . The Viking is protected by both cloak and cammo skin as well as high powered ECM/ECCM units. Its shields and armor can protect it from at least a few rounds from a Main Battle Tank or a few seconds of fire from a Frigate operating in atmosphere. Powered by M/AM reactor. Both AG and track propulsion.  
  
- Harbinger Main Battle Tank - - Standard frontline Main Battle Tank (MBT) in Terran Empire Army and Marine arms. The Harbinger is protected by both cloak and cammo skin as well as high powered ECM/ECCM units. Its shields and armor can protect it from close to half a dozen rounds from a Main Battle Tank or about a dozen seconds of fire from a Frigate operating in atmosphere. Powered by Dual M/AM reactors. Both AG and track propulsion. Dual Heavy Grav Guns and PPCs in single main turret. One Grav Gun in 180- degree turret mounted on front, left, right, and aft. 


	3. Chapter 1

- Reap the Whirlwind - A work of Star Trek Alternate Universe Fan Fiction By Jeremy "HappyTarget" S.  
  
  
  
- Prologue -  
  
  
  
These events take place in the late 24th century. They occur in the mirror universe first visited by Captain Kirk almost a hundred years earlier. In this universe, the mirror Spock was unsuccessful in his attempt to moderate and change the course of the Terran Empire. But it didn't collapse like he predicted either. It continued to expand, steadily pushing outward until it spanned nearly the entire galaxy. When the Empire first encountered the Borg, they met the first credible opponent that the Terran Empire had faced in nearly 70 years. It was only due to the sheer weight of the Empire's attack combined with their on par or superior tech that allowed them to carry the day. Despite the campaign's horrendous losses in both ships and personnel, in the end the Empire was only strengthened by its conquest of Borg space.  
  
  
  
Borg manufacturing facilities were adapted to benefit Imperial shipyards. The billions of trained men and women lost to the Terran Empire's war fleet were quickly recouped by adapting Borg maturation chambers to age unmodified human children. It didn't take long for the Empire to regain its stranglehold on the Milky Way. But with all enemies removed, the Empire's ruling council foresaw the death of their cherished way of life. They knew that in order to keep the subject species from rising up they needed a strong military. And in order to continue to justify the massive expenditures on military hardware, that military needed an enemy to fight.  
  
  
  
And they found a possible one in the vast recesses of the captured Borg database. One of the species assimilated by the Borg shortly before they encountered the Terran Empire had been experimenting on various ways of accessing a possible other universes. There had been many ongoing attempts by the Empire's scientists to access other dimensions and parallel universes, but they had met with little success. Now, fortified with the new ideas provided by the Borg database, they were finally sure that they were nearing their long sought goal. What they discovered was much more than they bargained for.  
  
  
  
- CHAPTER 1 -  
  
- Delta quadrant, on the outskirts of the former Borg system of A875 34B9, Aegean Class Fleet Support Destroyer I.S.S. Hopolite -  
  
The small destroyer came out of slipstream giving off the usual ghostly aquamarine glow. It looked like a cross between the Sovereign and Intrepid classes. It's saucer section resembled a miniaturized version of a Sovereign's. The shrunk saucer was mated to a secondary hull that looked like a stretched version of an Intrepid's. It stretched out almost twice the length of the oval primary hull, streaming gracefully out behind the warship. Slipstream drive nacelles were mounted on swept-back pylons which drooped only slightly below the saucer. The nacelles themselves resembled most strongly a stubbier version of a Sovereign's. They gave off only a pale blue glow through their grills, with their fronts devoid of any kind of bussard collector, as Slipstream drive required none. Shipyards across the Empire were busily swapping out the old-fashioned warp nacelles and drives for the recently acquired Slipstream versions as warships came in for refitting.  
  
The Slipstream drive had proved a boon for the Empire. It had allowed them to strengthen their hold on rebellious systems with fewer ships. With Slipstream's much greater speeds than regular Warp Drive, a rapid response fleet could be anchored at important fleet bases and star systems. Then when trouble was reported, they could go to it with plenty of time to spare. It was added to the list of useful gadgets that Starfleet already had when it was taken from a species near Borg space. Even now, a new fleet was being prepared, equipped with every bell and whistle the Empire had. Subspace weapons, phase cloaking, quantum and tricobalt torpedoes, Type 2 pulse phasers, pulse phaser turrets, Type XVI phaser arrays, ECM drones, ablative armor generators. the list went on and on. All to fight an enemy that hadn't even been encountered by Imperial ships yet. The ISS Hopolite was to secure the Borg complex in system A875 34B9 until the primary attack fleet in Imperial service arrived to begin the assault. The new fleet units would be worked up and follow the primary forces, joining in the attack once thy had been certified fit for duty.  
  
- ISS Hopolite, Deck 3, Reprimand Cell, 24:03 AM ship time -  
  
The man writhed in pure agony, his mouth falling open to unleash a scream. But instead of a piercing screech, only a hoarse croak escaped his cracked, parched lips. It was barely heard above the whining hum the Agonizer gave off while in operation. A harsh spotlight shining into his tortured face and bared upper torso was the only illumination in the room other than the pale glow of the control panels. It cast a harsh glow on the man's sweat covered face. His eyes alternately went from bulging, to tightly shut to rolling into the back of his head. Taunt muscles rippled and twitched of their own accord. The pain was unrelenting, coursing through his sweat soaked body like a wild fire, torturing each nerve ending in turn, relentless in it execution.  
  
The staff running the Agonizer were surprised that the subject of their ministrations could still get out even that much. After nearly 12 hours in the machine's grip, most people would have been driven nearly insane from the constant pain rampaging through the nerve endings like a pillaging army. They usually enjoyed their job, and who wouldn't enjoy being able to dish out pain when the one you hurt couldn't do a damn thing back to you. But even men such as they were beginning to get upset. No one deserved to be punished like this. An hour in the chair was usually enough of a deterrent for even the worst offender to change his ways. Lt. Cmdr. Ulysses Vanguard must have done a little something extra to piss off the old man this much. Of course the old man did have a sadistic streak a mile wide so a little something extra didn't have to be much. The rumor mill said he had lost his family to the Borg, so perhaps that was the reason why he was being so hard on his new ex-Drone Second Officer.  
  
A century ago, when the Agonizer machine was still crude in its execution, the subject regularly lost consciousness while subject to the ministrations of the machine. This allowed them at least a momentary respite from their torment. The latest version, of which the luckless Mr. Vanguard was strapped to now, was considerably more advanced. It sensed which nerve endings were beginning to lose sensation and shifted to other ones to maintain a constant state of pain. It also kept the subject awake for the entire length of their punishment, not letting them slip into the merciful, waiting arms of unconsciousness.  
  
The door to the room slid open, admitting the man whom had ordered the punishment. Captain Garret McBride strode into the middle of the room, his blood red silk command cloak billowing behind him, contrasting perfectly his black and silver unitard uniform. He stared down at his second officer's writhing body, with no compassion what so ever on his face. In fact, there was a slight sneer on his lips and his eyes sparkled. After taking in his officers suffering for a full minute in deathly silence, he turned to the Agonizer's operators.  
  
"You may release Lt. Cmdr. Vanguard."  
  
The steady hum that had filled the room abruptly cut out, and with it, the rasping cries of the Aegean class' ISS Hopolite second officer stopped. He nearly instantly fell into the long sought arms of oblivion.  
  
"Take him to sick bay and see if Doctor Unger can do anything for him." By his tone, he hoped that she wouldn't be able to repair the damage long exposure to the agonizer's field undoubtedly caused.  
  
"Of course sir, right away!" The head Agonizer tech, Master Chief Olaf Sanderson said. Turning to the other three techs he said, "You heard the Captain, get him unstrapped and down to sick bay." The three techs began to slowly disengage Ulysses from the chair. The door slid shut behind the Captain, and each gave a slight shudder as their tense muscles relaxed. When the Captain was on the warpath, anyone who displeased him in even the slightest way felt the full fury of his wrath. His leaving without doing so to any of the techs meant one of two things. One, they had done nothing to displease him, or two, he had finally calmed down. But since the Captain so rarely calmed down, the more likely of the two was that they hadn't displeased him. They carried their second officer between them down the hall to sickbay, and considering what had just happened to him considered themselves very lucky they hadn't done anything to irritate their extremely irritable CO.  
  
- ISS Hopolite, 03:14 AM ship time, Sick Bay -  
  
Ulysses Vanguard's hazel eyes fluttered open, then slammed shut again as the harsh white lighting of the Hopolite's sick bay flooded into them like a million tiny needles. His body felt like it was one solid bruise. For a moment, all he knew was the dull ache permeating his every muscle and bone he possessed, even the largely mechanical ones left over from his time as a Drone. Slowly, awareness filtered into his groggy brain. He let out a groan and shifted his hands to massage his head. That was a mistake. Where the blanket covering him brushed against him, the normally silky fabric felt as if it was a power sander applied to his skin. That was another of the benefits of the Agonizer, for its effects also lasted for a time after the subject was released from its clutches.  
  
His groan brought a delicate touch to his muscular arm. Feminine fingers began to run along the fine hairs of his upper arm. Ulysses involuntarily jerked it away from the fine boned hand. The touch was even worse than the pain the blanket had caused, light though the contact was.  
  
"Don't! That hurts like hell." He growled, his voice still gravelly and barely understandable from the abuse he had place upon it scant hours before. He slowly opened his eyes. His optic nerves still protested, but less vehemently than when he had first tried to use them. The lights of sickbay were dimmed except for the ones over his bio bed. They were turned up to full brightness, or at least it seemed so to his complaining eyes.  
  
"I know that silly." A silken voice replied. "It's one of the side effects of extended exposure. Look at it this way, it doesn't last that long, a day or two tops." Ulysses let out another groan.  
  
"You mean I have to go back to duty like this? No F**KING way! There must be something you can give me? Some drug in your pharmacopoeia that can at least lessen it?"  
  
She leaned down and her voice purred into his ear. "Now Mr. Vanguard, that would be against the Captain's standing orders. You know how testy he gets when his commands are not followed to the letter." she paused, looking around conspiratorially, then continuing in a near whisper, "but I suppose I could make a special exception in your case." Doctor Cynthia Unger said as her hands traced the shape of Ulysses body scant millimeters from his hypersensitive skin. "Perhaps you could do something to. persuade me to give you some aid?" Her hands finished their roaming and stopped to flow through Ulysses chocolate brown hair. Oh crap, Ulysses thought.  
  
He jumped like a scalded cat out of the bio bed and started backpedaling towards the exit, the pain contact with his skin forgotten. Then another fact finally sunk into his still clouded head. He was wearing very little of his uniform. This was bad. very, VERY bad. Ulysses was not usually easy to scare, but he was good and scared now. Part of him wanted to haul off and smack the Hopolite's CMO, but he had spent nearly all of his years since his stint at Starfleet Academy trying to ignore that voice. He felt beads of sweat break out on his back and forehead that had nothing to do with the corpulently warm shipboard temperature  
  
"Oh Mr. Vanguard, I don't bite." She said through pouting lips. Then a predatory grin spread across her face. "Not much anyway!" She started to round the bio bed in his direction, leaving its pool of light and nearly disappearing into the dimness beyond. Her well-toned body moved with cat like grace, and her eyes were like a lioness that had just decided on which gazelle to take down.  
  
"Ma'am, I think what you are proposing is a very bad idea. You are the Captain's Woman, and I'm in enough hot water with him now to know better than to pour more fuel on the fire." He backpedaled as he talked, and was now only a few steps away from the door. Continuing to back out of sick bay, Ulysses then stepped on something. Glancing down quickly, he noticed that it was the crumpled heap of his uniform. Barely breaking his stride, he stooped and grabbed the sweat soaked bundle with one hand. Then he stood and brought his sodden clothing up like shield.  
  
But that momentary break in his concentration on her was all Cmdr. Unger needed. She was on him in a flash, wrapping her arms and legs around him in a vice like grip. Her form fitting uniform left little to the imagination while engaged in such an intimate embrace. Her lips found his and latched on greedily.  
  
Crap, Crap, CRAP!!! I gotta get out of here PRONTO Ulysses thought. He forced the unwanted, highly dangerous remora off of his body with as much restraint as he could muster. Cmdr. Unger's arms windmilled and her pretty face's eyes went wide as her candy apple red lips formed a large O. Then she was falling onto the carpeted floor. She let out an angry squeal when her backside landed with a thud. Ulysses saw none of this though. Once free of her clutches, he nearly instantly turned and bolted for freedom, ignoring the aftereffects of the Agonizer nearly completely as he made good his escape. He didn't stop running until he dove into the turbolift at the end of the hall and it's doors swooshed shut behind him. 


	4. Chapter 2

- CHAPTER 2 -  
  
- ISS Hopolite, Deck 4, Lt. Cmdr. Ulysses Vanguard's quarters, 3:30 AM ship time -  
  
"Computer, engage security lockout on the door to this room, authorization Vanguard alpha five one epsilon!" Adrenaline was still coursing through Ulysses system, the sound of his rapid pulse hammering in his eardrums. That had been too close, much to close. If someone had caught him and Dr. Unger, Captain Garret McBride would have skinned him alive. Even though he had only been on board the Hopolite for a few days, he had found out that in a hurry. The captain allowed no one else to use his personal possessions, and Dr. Cynthia Unger was most assuredly one of his most personal possessions. Of course, by McBride's logic, EVERY soul on his ship was his personal plaything the instant they were assigned to it. He just chose to selectively enforce his rule for his own amusement.  
  
Ulysses threw his damp uniform into the recycler, then went into his closet and selected a new, dry uniform. Slipping into the space black, silver piped jumpsuit was like applying another layer of skin the fit was so tight. The spandex like material stretched to accommodate him. It was relatively simple in its form. The jump suit was almost totally black except for silver piping along the cuffs and down the outside of his legs. Branch was indicated by both color-coded piping along the collar and on a ring of color on his right sleeve. His was the blood red of command. That same ring on his sleeve held his years of service pins, a gold bar mated with a single silver one beside it indicated 6 years in the fleet. His rank pins gleamed on his collar, showing the two whole and one hollow pips of a Lt. Cmdr. It was thanks in part to the war and his innate ability that he had gotten promotion to that rank as quickly as he had. Going over to his room's replicator, he issued another order.  
  
"Computer, replicate one combadge." His was no where to be found in the bundle of his clothing. No doubt Cynthia Unger knew where it was, but he had no desire at all to return to her lair and ask for it. In fact, he decided then and there that he would do everything in his power to never become ill as long as she was the ships CMO. The computer obediently followed his instructions and after a short hum, a shiny new combadge appeared in the replicator's receptacle. It was small enough to fit easily into the palm of his hand. He stared down at it for a few seconds, his face not showing the disgust he felt. Nor did it show the unease as part of him raged, urging him to pull out a phaser and melt the symbol of the Terran Empire to slag. That emblem was the embodiment of all that he loathed and all that was wrong in the universe.  
  
The globe of Terra made up much of the badge, with a sword straight up and down behind it. The continents were laid out in ruby and emerald chips on a silver field. Reaching down, he roughly grasped the communicator and stuck it to his uniform's chest, putting it out of sight but not out of mind. The molecular adhesive on its backside bonded to his uniform soundlessly. Looking at himself in the mirror, Ulysses nearly spat on the floor. Damn the Terran Empire. Damn it to HELL he thought. Although he dared not show it outside of his personal quarters, and rarely even then, the excesses of the Empire lay like spoiled food in the pit of his stomach. He had felt that way for the longest time, for those excesses had reached out and changed his life forever.  
  
Keeping out Cynthia Unger and her desires was only part of the reason he locked the door to his quarters though. Going to an old-fashioned bookcase, he reached into it and pulled out a well-worn volume. He had been in possession of the book since his earliest days at the academy. A cherished friend had given them to him. Walking over to his desk, he sank into the opulent, overstuffed Huvian leather chair behind it. His still sensitive skin made almost no complaint as he settled into the chair. Huvian leather was renowned across the Empire for its comfort. The novel itself was not the reason for his caution. The bookmark it contained was. Although it looked and felt like a normal bookmark, and would even stand up to modest electronic scrutiny, it was far from ordinary.  
  
He opened the book on his desk with one hand, holding the bookmark flat on the desk with the other. Ulysses moved his fingers back and forth along it in what seemed a nervous habit. In reality it was far from it. It was actually a preprogrammed key code, one that would only activate to finger presses from a hand matching his genetic code alone. The key code finished, he commenced acting like he was reading the book. After six years of practice, he knew intuitively when he should turn the page. But his attention was not on the book at all.  
  
They key code activated the hidden and primary function of the bookmark. The code activated a tiny transmitter in the bookmark. Using subsonic waves, it utilized the listener's own bones to amplify the sound and transmit it to his eardrums. A calm, familiar voice seemed to fill his head. Here, in these words, he found both a sense of inner peace and a reason to go on in a service he had come to despise. He listened with every fiber of his being, knowing full well that the penalty of doing so was death. A ghost of a smile crossed his impassive face. Internal Security would have to catch him doing it first. The teachings of the biggest traitor in the empire's history, one Spock of Vulcan, worked their normal magic, repairing the frayed ends of his distraught mind. They filled him with a vision of what the Empire could yet become, the Utopian paradise Spock himself had only briefly encountered. They helped quell the voice that whispered seductively in his ear for release, adding bars to its cage.  
  
After listening to the words for close to an hour and a half, he finally felt at peace and in control again. It was a good thing to, because his bridge shift started in 15 minutes. Marking his place in the book, he returned it to its space on the shelf. Its spine read Dr. Jeckel and Mr. Hyde. Ulysses chuckled for the billionth time at the similarity between the books main character and himself. Of course in his case, the monster needed to be on the outside for all to see, while it was the decent man who remained hidden in the shadows. Making his way to his bathroom, Ulysses stuffed his second uniform of the day into the recycler. After a quick spin in the sonic shower, he donned a fresh uniform. Looking in the mirror, he set his face into its well practiced arrogant half smile. When among animals, one had to at least look the part to avoid unwanted attention.  
  
- ISS Hopolite, main bridge, 5:00 AM ship time -  
  
As he walked on the bridge, Ulysses gave an order to the computer.  
  
"Computer, activate program Ulysses alpha one." A chorus of groans came from the graveyard shift personnel. "Stop bellyaching and do your jobs!" His voice cracked like the taskmasters whip it was. All disagreement was silenced save for a few sulfurous looks exchanged between some of the more troublesome crew.  
  
They had yet to grow used to their new second officers peculiar custom, and they were stumped as to what would posses him to do it. Following his instructions unquestioningly, the computer raised the lighting to nearly full brightness and dropped the temperature to a chilly 20 degrees Centigrade. The true features of the bridge came into light. Ulysses thought that this was how a bridge was supposed to look. It looked like a nerve center of a starship, not the luxurious grotto it usually was. And although the bridge crew might not like it, Ulysses had found that the lower temperature and brighter lights increased concentration and generally improved crew performance across the board. Which was probably why they bitched. They liked their warm and dark little rut, and saw no need to change it, especially for a recently promoted, excruciatingly young Lt. Cmdr.  
  
Ulysses settled into the less comfortable chair to the right of the vacant command throne. Throne was a highly accurate word. It was one of the most comfortable seats on the entire ship, as well as being the seat of power for her master. Captain Garret McBride also guarded his seat as a king guarded his throne. Thus, Ulysses had to command his watch from one of the far less opulent chairs on either side of it. Being that the Hopolite was only a destroyer, its bridge was correspondingly cramped, with the extra command staff duty stations added in almost as an after thought.  
  
The combination helm and tactical station was directly in front of the raised command platform. The helm controls were stuck into the center of the curved station. Taking up a third of the total length of the console on either side of the helm was dual tactical consoles. The one on the left controlled the rear and left hand side weapons emplacements. The right side controlled the front and right facing weapons. During red alert situations, the chief tactical officer and his first deputy occupied them. To the right of the small bridge were the communications and engineering stations. To the left were the science and fleet support systems. Directly to the rear of the command deck were flight ops, the bridge turbolift, and the captain's ready room door. Flight ops required a special station on an Aegean class vessel because the stretched secondary hull allowed a full wing of fighters to be stowed in her hangar deck.  
  
The fleet support station was currently powered down and vacant because the Hopolite was currently unassigned to any fleet. If it was, and said fleet encountered an attack, Aegean class vessels were responsible for using their specialized systems in support. The main specialized system worked into the Aegean class was a system that boosted and strengthened the shields of the other vessels in the fleet. While not a pure combatant, it was still more than capable of holding its own in a fight. Her crew numbered only 150, but she also carried 100 Terran Marines and all of their gear.  
  
With arrays of Type XII Phaser Arrays and Ball Mount Pulse Phaser Cannons, she was a formidable energy platform even though she was merely an escort and support vessel. A normal cloaking device had been installed in the Aegean class because Bu Ships felt that only certain ships warranted a phase cloak. Ablative armor generators studded her hull. Although the fact that they didn't cover her energy weapons left possible kinks in her armor some lucky enemy could possibly exploit, they still provided a formidable second line of defense to her new style regenerative shields. Instead of the old style bubble shields, the Aegean class was one of the first to boast the new conformal shields as part of her design from the keel out. These made her a significantly smaller target. Weapons actually had to come close to hitting her in order to do damage to her shields, instead of having her shields damaged by what would otherwise have been a near miss. She also boasted a fore and aft burst quantum torpedo launcher. It was capable of launching a volley of up to six torps, with each one capable of locking up a different target. And that was just HER armament. She also carried eight strike fighters.  
  
The Cobra class Strike Fighter is the current front line fighter of the Terran Empire. What it resembled most was a diamond. The cockpit bubble was set forward, and offered considerable visibility. The dagger like nose housed one of the best sensor arrays ever fielded in a fighter. It provided information to the holo projectors in the cockpit, which in turn provided visual information to the pilot. It was armed with dual pulse phasers mounted on both sides of the forward leading edge. It also carried up to eight quantum torpedoes on internal weapons pods and four more externally, making her near equal to a Defiant in her opening volleys.  
  
The Cobra was powered by four impulse engines mounted flush top and bottom with the rear hull. They were stacked on top of each other in pairs, two on the left, two on the right. This configuration gave the fighter phenomenal roll and pitch characteristics. The Cobra's also mounted cloaking devices and ablative armor as standard. Since the fighters systems required more power than could be generated by impulse reactors, but design philosophy dictated a non warp capable ship to save internal space for more weapons, a compromise was made. A warp core was installed for power, but no nacelles and the subsequent power trunks to them were, freeing up enough room for another four Quantums that would otherwise have been left behind.  
  
This powerful package was now gliding slowly in system on 1/4 impulse, roughly 19 PSL. The Hopolite could have made the trip to its destination in mere seconds via slipstream, but the captain needed his beauty sleep, and no one dared call him on it. As such, it was going to take five hours to reach the target. Which meant that all Ulysses had to do was sit and do practically nothing for the next five hours. Nearly any other officer would have jumped at the chance to slack off like that, but Ulysses chafed at having nothing useful to do with his time. The captain knew this and had done it deliberately to further punish him, of this Ulysses was sure. Now if only he knew why he had become the captains whipping boy. Surely it couldn't be that he was an ex-Drone, could it? That would be highly irrational and just plain stupid. which the more he thought about it meant that it was exactly something McBride would do.  
  
"Miss Petel," he said to the watch's Vulcan science officer, "do you have anything unusual on sensors?"  
  
"Nothing significant to report sir." She replied with the usual even, superior tone of a Vulcan. "Just a fairly large concentration of debris and large constructs further in system. Sensors are not 100% accurate at this range, but it appears to be Borg in origin. It's also right where the brief said our target should be."  
  
She had every right to act superior. It wasn't every day that a species was able to fight the Terran Empire to a standstill. As such, the Vulcans had been brought in as equal partners in the Empire's hierarchy.  
  
"Well, it seems that Fleet Intel got something right for a change." Ulysses snorted. It even got a laugh out of the normally irritable bridge crew  
  
"So it would seem." She said deadpan, but Ulysses could have sworn he had seen a hint of a grin play at the corners of her normally inscrutable features.  
  
Fleet Intelligence had proven just how terribly fallible it could be when Operation Clean Sweep started. Intel had said that the conquest of Borg space would be a cakewalk. If only that was the case.  
  
Oh sure, the opening stages went exceptionally well. Cube after cube, system after system was scoured clean of all things Borg. It was almost laughable. When you destroyed a small Borg fleet, they just sent a bigger one after you. And every time it was in a headlong rush towards your biggest concentration of ships. And every time, the Borg were beaten back with only minimal Imperial casualties. Fleet Intelligence had been scouting the Borg for years in cloaked ships. They had also spent years on designing ways and technology to eliminate the Borg threat. Having developed a way to jam the Borg's link to their collective, and created weapons that would be effective against them, the conquest of Borg space began. Low and behold the weapons worked, and the Borg were just as tactically inept as Intel had prophesied. And everything had been wonderful.  
  
Then the Borg adapted. After loosing over 3/4 of their space, they launched a major counter assault with nearly everything they had left. And Starfleet thought that this one would end like all the others. But it didn't. When the massive fleets came together, many of Starfleet's weapons did only minor damage, and the Borg found ways to partially defeat Starfleet's auto- remodulating shielding. What had been a cakewalk became an orgy of mutual slaughter. Things degenerated into a war of attrition from then on. It was only a stroke of luck and after three years of horrendous fighting that the Terran Empire managed to gain the final victory. Yet that final victory had cost nearly every Imperial vessel and those who crewed them from two quadrants of the galaxy. The death toll ran into the hundreds of billions. Even with the acquired Borg tech, Fleet strength was still only up to 1/2 prewar strength. With the false promises of another easy campaign still fresh in the minds of many, Fleet Intel had gotten a nasty purple shiner that it wasn't going to lose for a long time.  
  
"Let me know immediately if anything odd pops up."  
  
"Of course sir." The words were harmless enough, but the tone said much more. The snide undercurrent was unmistakable. What she really said was 'Not only am I considerably smarter than you, I have been a Starfleet officer since you were still sh!tting in your drawers! So don't presume to remind me how to do my job!  
  
The tactical officers and the helmsman exchanged knowing grins. Lt. P'tel had verbally gutted them before too, and it was considerably more enjoyable to see it done to someone else. Someone else who caused them annoyance. Especially someone else who was higher in rank and thus could have them stuck in the Agonizer if they talked back.  
  
Time ticked slowly away, each second bringing the Hopolite that much closer to the Borg facility. Ulysses resisted the growing urge to sleep. He had been awake for over 20 hours now, and that combined with his recent introduction to the ships Agonizer was beginning to catch up with him. Then it hit him. Captain McBride was trying to force him to screw up. That way, he would have an excuse to liquidate him. But Ulysses still had no clue why the captain was out to get him. The captain had been like this since he came on board. It couldn't be as simple as misdirected revenge, it just couldn't.  
  
And while the captain might be a sadist and a cold, calculating SOB, one thing he was not was irrational. He had to have a reason behind his hate. Ulysses watch chimed, alerting him that it was nearly time to go off shift. And also time to change the climate controls. The captain positively despised coming onto a cold, brightly lit bridge.  
  
"Computer, deactivate program Ulysses alpha one."  
  
"Complying" came the gravely, tough voice. The lighting dimmed to its usual twilight level, and within seconds the temperature rose to the normal 32 degrees. The crew sighed as conditions returned to their accustomed norm. Ulysses thought they did it just to get back at him, but said nothing. By now, the shattered Borg complex filled the view screen.  
  
"Whatever happened here, the Borg definitely got the short end of the stick."  
  
"That's why we are here sir. We are to investigate just what happened to this outpost. In 23 hours 5 minutes, 45th fleet should be here to provide backup. We were only sent here first because we were the closest ship."  
  
Ulysses almost spat out an angry retort that he already knew that, but he reigned it in at the last second. Then he remembered being on the opposite end of such a conversation hours before. Swallowing his anger by sheer force of will, he only nodded to Lt. P'tel. She nearly grinned in the dim light, having noticed that her barb had found its mark. Maybe next time, Mr. 2nd Officer would remember to whom he was talking to. When one had served as long as P'tel had, one learned the subtle art of irritating those that irritated you but were higher up on the local totem pole. Both settled in to wait the always punctual Captain McBride's arrival 


	5. Chapter3

- CHAPTER 3 -  
  
- ISS Hopolite, Bridge, 10:00 AM ships time, entering standard orbit of Borg research facility A875 34B9-001 -  
  
The turbolift doors opened to admit the Hopolite's master. His crimson cloak edged in silver and held in place by brilliantly polished silver clasps said as much. No one else on the ship was allowed such ornamentation. Captain McBride strode with his usual swagger and arrogant smirk, his command cloak billowing behind him. He settled into a comfortable slouch in his overstuffed command chair with a sigh of contentment. The next watch came seconds later, not daring to presume to ride in the same turbolift as their captain. He tended to frown on such things.  
  
Ulysses stood to follow the rest of the graveyard shift, wanting to get out of McBride's presence as soon as possible. He almost made it. McBride's dammed smooth, resonant voice called to him just as he was about to enter the lift.  
  
"Just a minute Lt. Cmdr. I want you to beam over to the Borg station immediately. That was the reason you were assigned to my ship. Your knowledge of Borg systems is the only reason I tolerated your addition to her."  
  
Although his pillow was calling powerfully to him, there was nothing he could do. Sighing to himself, Ulysses turned back to the center of the bridge.  
  
"Of course sir. Do you have any suggestions as to which of the crew I should take along with me?" That had the dual plusses of allowing McBride to feel like he was in control and to deflect any anger over being selected for the away mission off of him and onto the despised captain.  
  
"I thought I made myself clear! Very well then, I'll spell it out for your feeble mind. You are to go alone. I expect the station to be active before the 45th Fleet gets here." McBride snarled. Ulysses just stood there with a dumbfounded expression on his face. No way, not even McBride was that sadistic. But he was. "Tic Toc Lt. Cmdr.! Time is wasting!" And the smile that accompanied those words would have scared even an Aldeberan serpent. Ulysses braced to attention.  
  
"Sir, yes SIR!! Anything the Captain wants SIR!!" The sad part was that he really was the best member of the crew to do the job, having been specifically attached to the Hopolite when it shipped out from Starbase 709 just for his expertise in Borg power and data systems. As such, he had no reason that would allow him to complain without sending him back to the Agonizer. And as tempting as that alternative was right now, just to spite the Captain's whishes, Ulysses just couldn't bring himself to do it. The memories of his last visit were still far to fresh to allow for a repeat visit. So he turned and stormed into the turbolift. His sulfurous visage was enough to make the rest of the shift wait for an empty car. Despite being on the Captain's personal shit list, he was still a pissed off senior officer. And pissed off senior officers had a tendency to do very bad things to subordinates who pissed them off even more. The doors closed and Ulysses was alone in the lift car. "Three bags full SIR!"  
  
- Borg research station A875 34B9-001, 10:15 AM -  
  
The transporter whined as a single humanoid beamed into the middle of the thrashed hallway. Or would have wined but didn't because all atmosphere had left the station long ago. The polished obsidian of Ulysses Vanguard's environmental suit reflected the stars showing through the ragged whole at one end of the hall where the station abruptly ceased. Every surface in the hall was covered in a fine frost where the water vapor in the air had frozen when exposed to the eternal chill of space. But the stars were not the only things that reflected off of the polished surface of Ulysses enviro suit. A true testament to the durability of Borg structures, both internal lighting and displays were still mostly online though often flickering fitfully, casting their sickly greenish yellow glow into the hallway. The shadows their light formed looked like medieval demons, come to snatch up the souls of any whom dared trespass on their damned ground. The shadows cast by the lights on either side of Ulysses helmet were little better.  
  
Just being on this station was bringing back very bad memories. Ulysses knew that his fear was irrational. The Borg on this station had been dead for at least five years according to the Borg database. The scans done by the Hopolite proved that conclusively. Come on man, Ulysses thought to himself, there is nothing to fear here anymore. Yet the hair on the back of his neck refused to drop. His brown eyes dilated and his pulse began to race as the surfacing memories triggered his instinctive fight or flight response. Almost of its own volition, Ulysses gauntleted right hand went across and started rubbing the back of the left. Even through the suit's layers of insulation, he could feel the raised mechanical exoskeleton lying beneath. It was similar in style to the metallic docking mechanism for an ocular implant that remained above his regenerated right eye and the fan shape implant that remained near his left earlobe. He had been a drone for to long to successfully remove all of the Borg implants from his body, and so they remained, permanent reminders of his time ruled by the Collective. The biological and machine parts were to integrated and interdependent by the time he was rescued from the Collective for total removal of them. Like so many others, despite the fact that he was an individual again, he would forever carry the signs of his time as a Drone. They would be a constant reminder of the terror and violations he had been forced to endure before he was finally freed.  
  
Despite his desperate attempts to keep them suppressed, Ulysses memories of his assimilation and subsequent time as a Drone flooded his mind. The battle that went horribly wrong, the running firefight down the Galaxy's halls in a desperate bid to escape the inevitable. Drone after drone fell, cut down by the energy of his and others phaser rifles. And then the phasers didn't work anymore, their bolts hitting shields erected to keep them from killing the targeted Drones. He could still feel the assimilation tubules pierce his neck. Still feel the microscopic mechanical parasites they delivered coursing into his body. Then he was Borg.  
  
The unity of purpose, the billions upon billions of voices in his head all saying the same thing in lock step came first in a small trickle, then as a raging torrent pushing everything Ulysses Vanguard had been before it, washing it away and filling the void with itself instead. Then came the gross violations of his person as mechanical 'enhancements' were added to his body. And the whole time he could do absolutely nothing about it. He was a spectator, watching something else control his actions and thoughts like the ultimate puppeteer. Oh he fought the inexorable force, screamed and raged against it, even cried and begged it to stop. It paid not one iota of attention to him, using the husk of his body for its own purposes and locking his personality and individuality away where it sat caged and powerless.  
  
And then, after what seemed like a long, long time, the voices, the unity, the puppet controlling strings all stopped abruptly. He was an individual again. The sheer joy of that caused him to break down and cry like a newborn babe. That was the state the Imperial Marine boarding party found him in, sobbing uncontrollably on the catwalk like deck of the Cube with his arms wrapped around his knees. If Starfleet hadn't been so desperate for trained crew, they probably would have never allowed him to put the uniform back on for a good few years. And even then they would have gone over him with every scanner, biological and mechanical both, numerous times to ensure he wouldn't break down again. But fortunately for Ulysses, the Empire literally begged him to come back to the service. With the massive casualties brought by the later stages of the war, Starfleet needed every able bodied person it could get. Even ones who were ex Drones.  
  
The dark abyss was clawing at his ankles, threatening to pull him under. Just as Captain McBride had hoped it would. MC BRIDE!! That thought brought him back from the brink. His rage, an ever-present knot of fire in his soul, welled up like it constantly tried to do. A snarl started deep in his throat. Popping the lid to his kit, he reached in and pulled out an interphasic coil spanner. He would do his job despite his fear. He would do any task in the entire universe in fact. Just as long as completing it gave him just ONE chance to even the score with that bastard Garret McBride! 


	6. Chapter 4

- CHAPTER 4 -  
  
- Borg Research Center A875 34B9-001, 11:28 PM -  
  
Ulysses continued to toil in the bowels of the Borg station. Over the long hours, his rage had settled down from a white-hot firestorm to a slowly smoldering fire deep in the pit of his stomach. He had also modified his original plans. Instead of challenging McBride the instant he got back, he would attack when the time was right, when he was in better condition and not nearly falling over from lack of sleep. He set his tool carefully back into his repair kit. With a final grunt of satisfaction, he made his way over to a control panel, his fatigued frame leaning against the wall for support. As quickly as his exhaustion-hazed brain would allow, Ulysses punching a specific sequence, he was rewarded with all lighting and controls in the central room coming fully online. Hull breaches were sealed with emergency force fields and internal atmosphere was brought up to normal levels. Ulysses yawned as he consulted his tricorder. They indicated an atmosphere that was holding steady at two kilopascals above Terran normal, so there were no unstopped leaks. They also indicated that while gag inducing, the atmosphere was breathable. With those results checked and double checked just to be sure he hadn't misread them the first time through, Ulysses cracked the seal of his suit helmet, lifting it off and attaching it to the rack on the front of his space suit.  
  
The foul tasting mixture hit him like a slap to the face with its higher concentrations of methane and carbon dioxide. Ulysses made a face, but forced the rising bile in his throat to subside. He consulted his tricorder again, this time shifting the readout to a different set of easily measured phenomena. The humidity and heat were high, hitting 92 % and 39.1 degrees Celsius respectively. Everything looked right on line for normal Borg constructs atmospheric conditions. Ulysses allowed himself a tired smile. Now that the enviro controls are working properly, it's time to modify them to Terran standard. Another sequence of commands was entered into the control panel. It beeped sourly and the lighting dimmed fractionally for a second. Ulysses thumped the panel and the lighting went back to normal. Humidity levels quickly dropped, as did the temperature. The air also became sweeter as the methane and CO2 were replaced with increased ratios of oxygen and nitrogen. That's better, Ulysses old boy, he thought to himself. Now cross your fingers and pray that you fixed main power as well as well as the enviro controls and the auxiliary reactors.  
  
Punching in a final series of commands, he was rewarded with an increasing whine that eventually subsided into a subsonic rumble more felt than heard. From the Hopolite, it looked like a sleeping giant had awoke from slumber. The slow tumble of the research center gradually stopped as its station- keeping thrusters came online. The surviving portions of the center came on line, ominous and foreboding as their internal light shone through the greenish gray latticework of conduits and passageways enclosing them. It was hard to believe that something that looked so fragile could absorb so much punishment and still be functional. His job finished, an extremely tired Ulysses stretched and yawned at the same time. Then he tapped his communicator.  
  
"Ulysses to Hopolite, mission complete. One to beam up." Within seconds, he felt the familiar tingle as the transporter began disassembling him at the molecular level. Soon he would be back on the Hopolite, soon he could sleep, and soon afterward he could extract his revenge.  
  
-The surveillance cruiser hid under stealth, keeping the new arrival at the very edge of its passive sensor's reach. It had noted the appearance of the alien vessel in the system over ten hours ago. The new ship could only be of another new species. The design of their ship was significantly different from both the ships and structures of the other species encountered in this system. They, unlike those initially encountered, did not seem to posses the massive and powerful cubic ships that the others had. This new species, if the single vessel seen was any indication of the norm, built their vessels to as different a style from those know as those whom flew in the cube shaped ships. Both styles of ship were radically different than those encountered by the race before. All known previously had flown in ships at least similar in form to that of their own. Yet these species flew in ships totally different, much like the space that surrounded the surveillance cruiser. It to was totally different than anything the Race had known before. The new alien ship must have entered through a closed warp point in the outer system. The picket cruiser's standing orders were to observe and report, not to engage the enemy. But those orders had been issued before the only known warp point of the system had destabilized and closed itself.  
  
It had ceased to exist not that long after the battle line left back to friendly space through it, leaving the lone cruiser to act as a tripwire. It was to remain on station until an exploratory mission could be mounted to plot the newly conquered systems warp points. But the collapse of the warp point and the subsequent lack of any friendly vessel's return to the system meant that the cruiser could not report its findings to a higher authority. The cruiser had initially tried to find either another warp point on its own. None had been located, despite a thorough search. Finding no new warp points, the cruiser had tried to find a way to fix the original one. But being that there was no known reason for, nor any record of, a warp point collapsing, no success was found in that plan either. So reverted to its standing orders and waited and watched. And for the longest time, there was nothing to watch but the drifting debris cloud of the enemy station. But now a single ship of about destroyer size had entered the system. The event had been logged and now the cruiser watched its actions, recording them for possible use. -  
  
- ISS Hopolite, Deck 2, outside Captain's quarters, 8:00AM ship time, ETA till 24th Fleet's arrival: 11 hours -  
  
Ulysses stalked towards the lair of his enemy. He had slept the sleep of an exhausted man. His dreams had not given him another solution to the problem he faced. The time was ripe to end this, however distasteful the method was. His hand dropped to finger the dagger in its hilt on his left hip. He let slip the rage inside him, harnessing its power towards his aims as best he could. It had not abated a bit from the white-hot rage that had gripped him on the Borg complex, nor had he expected it to. It and he were well used to each other by now, yet he refused to let it dictate his actions. It would do him no good if he lost himself in his anger, for he had done so before finding the Teachings of Spock and it hadn't done him any good. A man enraged was liable to make mistakes, as a young Ulysses had discovered. With an enemy as cunning as Garret McBride, mistakes could easily cost him his life. But by holding a tight rein on his rage, he made it a tool to be called upon at need. He was its master, choosing when and how it manifested itself. He would use every tool at his disposal if they helped him win the coming duel with McBride. And still a small part of him cried out that taking the path he was went against all he believed in.  
  
Ulysses could only unfortunately agree with that, but these were the cards he had been dealt. He had found no way out of the situation, despite searching nearly continuously since he had been transferred to the Hopolite. When he had first met the captain, his automatic and irrational anger towards him had narrowed his possible paths considerably. Of the few that remained, he had exhausted them one by one. None had yielded success. That left him with only one remaining option. It was the most abhorrent, the most against what he had strived so long to become, and thus Ulysses had left it till the very end. Now he had no other choices. McBride had backed him into a corner, and the rage inside of him wouldn't let him sit and continue to take the abuse any more. Ulysses had been forced into a situation where the only outcome was death, and he was determined that it wouldn't be his.  
  
A century earlier, the fastest ticket to promotion had been to assassinate your superior and claim his post as your own. But the Imperial Council had seen that this way lead to inexperienced junior officers in command of their warships when the time came to make war. These officers most often lacked the abilities of those they assassinated. This caused conflicts and rebellion suppression to last longer and cost more in both human and mechanical terms than would have been the case. So the council set about to find a way to still have the safety valve of assassination was in place, but to limit it so that when time came for action, most of the war fleet had experienced and capable officers in command.  
  
Under the rules they eventually laid down, assassination was all but outlawed. Only senior officers could ascend to command by killing the captain. And even then, only in a fair duel with normalized boundaries was it to be considered. This allowed for experienced commanders to remain in command relatively securely, without spending most of their time watching their own back. It was a good plan from that respect. Combat records of the fleet as a whole took a massive jump as seasoned officers were at most of their helms from then on. But from Ulysses point of view, it made his job considerably harder.  
  
Finally, he was in front of the door. He forcefully pressed and held the admittance chime. He longed to exercise the more physical means of announcement of pounding on the door. But interior doors and bulkheads on a modern starship were solidly built. He could pound for hours, and no sound would penetrate into McBride's sleeping ears. So he was forced to settle for abusing the door's buttons. After a few seconds, the highly pissed off voice of Captain McBride assaulted his ears.  
  
"Whoever the hell is pestering me at this hour is gonna whish they were dead!" The sentence came out like a growl, meant to intimidate lesser men into submission.  
  
"Captain Garret McBride, I formally challenge you for the right to command this ship." Despite the butterflies in his belly, Ulysses got the sentence out in an even tone. Silence reigned in the hall for what seemed like an eternity.  
  
"So, its you." The growl was still there, along with something akin to eager anticipation. "I didn't think you would have the balls to try something like this. Not that I care mind you. It gives me a legal reason to kill you myself. That is infinitely preferable to having you killed by other means. I shall be out directly."  
  
In less than a minute, McBride entered the hall in full uniform. The two combatants stepped into the middle of the hall. Facing each other with mirror image masks of hate, they stood with feet spread and within striking distance of each other.  
  
"Your challenge is accepted Lieutenant Commander Ulysses Vanguard." This was merely perfunctory. Accepting a challenge with anything else was a capital offence, and as such was punishable by immediate execution. Thus even those commanders fearful of losing had no choice but to take their chances in combat.  
  
Both drew their daggers from their sheaths, the metal making a rasping sound as it was drawn past leather. Even in the low light of the hall, the polished metal of the blades reflected the lighting like mirrors. At the same time, both pulled the edge of their blades across their left palm, drawing a trickle of blood as each closed their hand into a fist around the wound.  
  
Then both turned their attention on each other again. Ulysses waited, searching for the slightest hint of when the first attack would come. He could tell that McBride was used to overeager or desperate opponents, ones who always tried to strike first. The fact that Ulysses merely stood there, dagger at the ready, waiting, unnerved McBride. Second after second ticked by, with neither man so much as twitching. Ulysses could feel the neuro toxin that coated the daggers blade begin to take hold, sending a slow numbing creeping up his left arm. The same thing was happening to McBride. Ulysses could tell that by the way his left arm hung limply from his shoulder down. If he didn't take action soon, he would be unable to. Once the toxin reached the heart, it stopped beating.  
  
That was the reason for use of the poison. If neither combatant took action, the poison would kill them both. The antidote was in a hypo spray mounted in the pommel of the dagger. No one had ever dared to go for it until after a challenge was ended though. Taking the time to open the pommel left you wide open to attack if your opponent was still alive.  
  
Finally, after what seemed like hours but was only a mere eleven seconds, Ulysses saw it in McBride's eyes. That decision to take action, that predatory instinct to attack awakening, to both initiate and finish the duel. Nearly in unison, both combatants charged towards each other. Their headlong rush brought them careening into each other, the short distance between them closing in a heartbeat. A look that was a mixture of utter surprise and terror spread across Ulysses features. 


	7. Chapter 5

- CHAPTER 5 -  
  
- ISS Hopolite, Deck 2, Outside Captain's quarters, 8:01AM -  
  
Ulysses looked down and saw for the first time the carnage the short battle had wrought. He sucked breath through clenched teeth in shock and was rewarded with a fresh stab of pain from his ribcage. The influx of breath wasn't the only sound. With it came a wet rasping sound as a mixture of blood and air flowed around the dagger sticking out of the left of his chest. He again looked at McBride, expecting to see his gloating eyes staring back at him.  
  
Instead he saw ones that were confused, and growing more so by the minute. Ulysses couldn't for the life of him figure out why that should be. After all, HE was the one with a dagger lodged deeply into his chest, he was the one about to die, so why was McBride confused? The neuro toxin was beginning to affect Ulysses' mind, making it sluggish. Why? Why was McBride confused? Part of his mind coldly analyzed his situation, despite the rising veil of fog falling upon his cognitive functions. If McBride wasn't going to kill him quickly, at least the poison coursing through his system would bring death soon. Now why was his right hand wet? His mind worked slowly, like it was moving through taffy. His hand wasn't supposed to be wet. He looked down again, and got an even bigger shock than seeing the knife still lodged in his ribcage.  
  
His hand was gripping his dagger's handle so hard his knuckles were white. Or would have been white if he could still see the skin of his hand. A crimson liquid was flowing over his hand, hiding the skin from view. His mind finally made the connection. McBride's blood! His hand was being covered by McBride's blood! It was coming out in a stream as steady as a metronome. In the eye blink of time when both Ulysses and McBride had clashed, both had scored a blow on their opponent. It just happened by pure blind luck that Ulysses' blow had pierced McBride's cold black heart. He looked into Garret McBride's eyes and saw consciousness fading from them, saw them loose focus and eventually fix on a point in space, never to see again.  
  
With what was almost a sigh, Garret McBride's legs lost their ability to support him, and he slowly collapsed to the ground. Ulysses just stood there, casting a very macabre figure with his face deathly pale, left arm lifeless from the shoulder down, right arm still clutching his knife with blood coating everything up to the elbow, and a dagger jutting out of his chest. The sheer revulsion of what he had done came crashing down on Ulysses. What have I done? DEAR GOD, WHAT HAVE I DONE!?! An animal cry of anguish came from Ulysses vocal cords even as a howl of victory rose up from the demons in his soul that had taken over his actions despite his best efforts to keep then under control. He fell to his knees in front of the man he had slain. His tears began to fall, his body wracked by violent sobs, and the spasms of pain they caused when they jolted the blade lodged in his lung. As his respiration increased, so did the wet rasping sound coming from his wound. Ulysses brain, stupefied by drugs, horror and regret, kept trying to tell him he was forgetting to do something. Yet all he could see was the blood on his hands. He turned to the side and vomited. That proved too much for his tortured body. Almost mercifully he passed out, falling backward, the fine metalwork on the handle of the dagger shining brightly as it stood straight up, perpendicular to his chest. Just like a tombstone.  
  
- Borg Research Center A875 34B9-001, 8:02 AM -  
  
The engineering team had worked through the night, and finally had fruits to show for their efforts. The Hopolite's Chief Engineer, Cmdr Clay Heidberg stared down at the nearly completed job, his gray eyes nearly glowing with satisfaction. Of the entire team working to bring the ex Borg facility fully back online, only he knew what the facility's purpose had been when it was operational. But the other engineers on the Hopolite's staff were a pretty sharp bunch. They had nearly figured out the base's purpose all on there own, just by trying to put it back together. They would have been done a lot sooner if it hadn't been for that Asshole McBride making Lt. Cmdr. Vanguard bring the station's main systems online by himself. Granted, he was the only ex drone on the Hopolite, and as such most familiar with Borg technology. But even a single set of extra hands would have done the job in less than half the time it had taken the Second Officer working alone.  
  
This station had taken a heck of a beating from something, Clay thought, and that something had to be either really powerful or highly exotic to do this to the Borg.  
  
Surprisingly, the actual damage to the systems vital to the research project had been relatively light. It had taken considerably less time than originally projected to bring the station fully online and capable of initiating its primary purpose. 24th Fleet would be in for a surprise when it showed up in about 11 hours. They were expecting a dead station. What they were getting was one ready and rearing to go.  
  
What had been a Borg control console had been ripped out and was laying off in a corner. An Imperial one was just being put in its place. It would simplify matters when it finally became time to activate the project. Four crewmen were manhandling the table-sized console into position when one of them let it slip. It fell down and smashed the toe of his boot with predictable results.  
  
"Stop your wailing Higgins!" Heidberg ordered the squealing engineering officer. "If you weren't such a klutz, you would have nothing to cry about."  
  
"Damn it Cmdr, but this things heavy!" Higgins whined. "Can't we use the anti grav hauler to position it?"  
  
"If you had paid attention at the briefing instead of checking out the female engineers, you wouldn't ask such a dumb question." A few of the more attentive engineers chuckled and cast grins at each other. Clay sighed inside. "Remember, I said that AG fields would adversely affect the power distribution nodes in this room? And by adversely I mean that it would start a chain reaction in the station's power grid that would fry every EPS relay on the station! If you want to explain the cause of that little doozy to the captain, go ahead. Just be sure to let someone know what you want said at your eulogy."  
  
Higgins had always been a troublemaker, picking fights with crewmen for no reason, slacking off when he thought he could get away with it. And if it wasn't for the fact that he was one of the best young engineers he had encountered in recent years, Clay would have sent him packing long ago. But that was only the official reason that Higgins was still on the Hopolite. Captain McBride had heard that he was a burr under many people's saddles. And since the Captain loved to play the crew against each other, he had made one Ensign Oliver Higgins his golden boy.  
  
Clay could only shake his head. The sick little games that Captain McBride loved to play were just plain dumb. If he ever had to go into an actual battle with the Hopolite, he would be going in with a seriously flawed weapon. And it would be entirely his fault when it blew up in his face. Of course if that happened, it also blew up in the rest of the crew's face as well. Most of them knew this and tried to avoid the games the captain played and get along with each other as much as possible. Yet some, like Ensign Higgins, took every chance they could get away with to belittle and aggravate their fellow shipmates.  
  
Despite being the Captains favorite, even Higgins knew that he would be skinned alive by him for frying the stations EPS system, so he clamed up and went back to helping move the bulky, heavy console into position. Once it was pretty much centered, another tech came up and made the connections from the console to the system, connecting leads and power cables to the appropriate jacks in the front of the console's base. As power was fed into it , the console blinked to life, its formerly featureless black surface giving way to pastel controls and readouts of a standard Imperial LCARS display. Clay looked at the telltales and grinned.  
  
"Well it looks like you mangy excuses for engineers can do something right after all!" To a man, the team members grinned back. It was tough to get a compliment out of Cmdr. Heidberg, but when you did, it was as sincere as they came. Clay touched his combadge. "Heidberg to Hopolite. Tell the captain that we have the station at full readiness. We can initiate the experiment at any time."  
  
"Understood Cmdr. Heidberg. Let us know when your team is ready to depart." A velvety female voice replied.  
  
"Can do Hopolite. Heidberg out." 


	8. Chapter 6

- CHAPTER 6 -  
  
- Former Klingon Space, Alpha Quadrant, That Same Time -  
  
Cerulean blue nebula gasses swirled off of the tiny speeding ship's wings, creating spiral vortices in its wake. Despite its best efforts, the fleet K'Vort class vessel was steadily loosing ground to its pursuers. Its ancient impulse drive, while fleet of foot, just couldn't overcome the advanced design and sheer brute strength of its enemies STL drives. It was a loosing battle, yet it still drove headlong deeper into the nebula. The two Defiant class ships and single Steam Runner class ship chasing it knew that they would eventually force the raider to turn and fight. And then they could kill it and return to base. They had been chasing the ancient Klingon rust bucket for almost six hours, and the pursuit had become tedious. The range finally closed enough to open fire, and pulse phasers lashed out at their cornered quarry.  
  
The ship rocked as a full barrage of pulse phaser shots hit its stern, causing the shields to crackle with dissipated energy. The battered impulse drive housing could take no more and started venting sickly orange plasma. Pursuing Imperial warships, like sharks homing in on blood in the water, closed in for the kill.  
  
- IKV Bo'Par, Main Bridge -  
  
The tactical officer smashed his fists on his panel in frustration as the small vessel was jostled by another volley of phasers impacting his rear shields. In an angered voice he snarled, "Rear shields down to 20% sir! One more volley like that and they will be gone! The impulse engines are leaking drive plasma. We can only maintain current speed for another minute at most before they burn out completely!" He silently cursed the long dead engineer who had designed the K'Vort class with virtually no rear firing arch. But then he wasn't really that big of a ship, relying more on his speed and maneuverability to bring his weapons to bear than wide angle firing arcs. He wasn't made to run from a fight, yet that was exactly what he had been ordered to do.  
  
"Remain steady on course. Divert emergency power to rear shields." The powerful, yet feminine voice of the ship's mistress cut through the wail of the battle stations klaxon. Luza smiled a toothy smile at her ships view screen. It showed the three ominous charcoal gray silhouettes of the Imperial vessels closing on her small command from behind.  
  
That's right you sniveling pahtks! Keep following me. Just a little further and the hunter shall become the prey and you will be gutted like that targ we had for dinner! The ship shook again, and fresh damage exploded on the bridge. Acrid smoke began to stream from a busted conduit overhead and the communications console exploded in a shower of sparks. Bits of molten control panel and razor sharp shards of displays flew into the com officers face and the arms he had thrown up to cover it. To his credit, he didn't scream. Instead he merely staggered off of the bridge towards sic bay.  
  
"Rear shields down sir! Hull integrity is failing in compartments A4 to A8!"  
  
"Range to the rendezvous!" She barked to her tactical officer.  
  
"100 kellicams! We will reach the rendezvous in five, four, three, two, one."  
  
Luza laughed heartily and brought her fist into the open palm of her left hand. The pursuing Imperials were as good as dead and they didn't even know it. "Bring us about, target the lead Defiant and fire all weapons!" The entire bridge crew growled hungrily. They were true warriors, and as such they detested running away from a fight. Now it was time to turn the tables on the Imperial scum. The Bo'Par had been bait in a well thought out trap, but they were bait no longer.  
  
The battered ship flew through an arbitrary point in the nebula. Finally it turned its shredded rear shields away from the enemy, bringing its still fully charged and more powerful forward shields and its own weapons to bear at last.  
  
- Negh'Var class IKV Sword of Kahless, Main Bridge -  
  
General Worf turned to the only non-Klingon on his flagship's bridge. His eyes fastened on the inscrutable being that stood with easy grace, its features hidden behind its helmet and breath mask.  
  
"Your new wonder weapon had better work!"  
  
The being merely turned and stared at him with hidden eyes, neither saying or doing anything. Worf would have loved to wage the silent battle of wills with his new ally, but there wasn't time for such things just now. Spitting on the floor he turned to his communications officer.  
  
"Orders to the fleet, decloak and attack! Great songs will be sung of this day! For the glory of the empire and of Kahless, VICTORY!" Behind him, the environmental suit cloaked being turned his attention back to the view screen.  
  
- Steam Runner class ISS Gnasher, Main Bridge -  
  
Captain Giles smiled a tight smile. So the terrorist raider had finally decided to turn and fight. This was good because the chase had lasted much longer than it should have. His lean frame leaned forward in his chair, hinting at his eagerness. He spoke without taking his eyes off of the rapidly growing frigate on the view screen. It spat dual streams of green disruptor bolts at the Gnasher's escorting Defiant's, causing its shields to shimmer as they absorbed and redirected the energy away from the hull.  
  
"Target that trash hauler and wipe it."  
  
"Sir, multiple ships decloaking all around us!" His tactical officer interrupted with growing panic. Captain Giles' head whipped around to the tactical station to his right. He saw the raw terror on the officer's face and instantly knew that the small ship had merely been bait. Bait to lure his ships into an ambush. He leapt out of his chair and bolted towards the helm station, as if that would make his commands happen faster.  
  
"Helm, hard about! HARD ABOUT!!"  
  
He knew that he was hovering over his helmsman like a worried mother, but for once in his life thoughts on appearances were the last thing on his mind. And as he watched the view screen with morbid fascination, he knew that it was already far to late. First, small ships, much like the pursued K'Vort appeared, then more massive ships began to appear. Their profile was unlike any ships he had ever seen, and they were on par size wise with a Sovereign class. Their blade like curves and talon like weapon emplacements made them look more like raptors than starships. Ship after ship of dark green, emerald green, even sand color appeared on the viewer.  
  
With those ships slightly smaller ones appeared, the metallic look yet organic in nature gray of their hulls gleamed dully in the light of the nebula. Their silhouette made them seem lopsided, not possessing the customary symmetry of a starship. It was from these vessels that the attack came from. Blue white bolts of energy spewed from them, hitting the trio of Imperial vessels with at least two shots each. And when those shots hit home, all energy coming from the Imperials abruptly dropped off completely. Without power for their impulse drive, the three ships that had been in the process of a hard 180-degree turn continued to spin out of control. They were adrift, lacking even power for station keeping thrusters to right their tumble.  
  
- IKV Sword of Kahless, Main Bridge -  
  
There were cheers all around the bridge. The Breen officer turned again to stare at General Worf. Feeling the beings eyes on him, even though they were hidden behind his environmental suit's helmet, he turned to regard him again. In spite of the beings environmental suits facemask, Worf could tell that he was sending an I Told You So look to him.  
  
"Your new weapon does indeed work as you have said. On behalf of the Alliance, I give you our thanks and extend to your people our full partnership."  
  
The Breen said nothing for a second, then nodded at Worf. Not much of a talker are you Worf thought. Oh well, since your weapons work, I suppose you are of some value to the Alliance.  
  
"Orders to the fleet, deploy boarding parties!"  
  
- ISS Gnasher, Main Bridge -  
  
Now they will attack us, and we are dead Captain Giles thought. But they didn't attack. And seconds later, he knew the reason. The wine of a transporter beam cut the sudden silence that had gripped the bridge. The wine died but was replaced by a blood curdling war cry. Giles was still in the process of drawing his phaser, spinning to face his target, when the first disrupter bolts cut him down. As he fell, his vision tunneling to darkness, he saw the rest of the bridge crew being hit and slumping across their consoles or down to the deck. The last thing his eyes saw before the black claimed him was the bony brow ridges of a Klingon warrior above the brownish red disrupter pistol pointed at his head.  
  
The Klingon boarder surveyed the bridge, letting out a satisfied grunt of approval. His team had done an excellent job. Only a few shots had missed and done merely aesthetic damage to the bulkheads. He reached to his utility belt and pulled out his communicator.  
  
"Major Kurn to General Worf. I am pleased to report that all resistance on the Steam Runner's bridge has been eliminated."  
  
"Excellent brother! Let me know when the rest of the ship is secure. Once it and the other two are taken, we will repair their cloaking devices and tow them to the nearest Alliance shipyard."  
  
"Understood, Kurn out." He turned to the rest of his assault team. "Well, what are you standing around for? You heard him, we have the rest of the ship to take. The one with the most kills gets a full case of your favorite drink when we return to the ship." The wager had the desired effect. Shouting their war cry, the mix of Klingon, Cardassian, and Romulan boarders charged towards the bridges turbolift doors. Each had dreams of an entire case of Blood Wine, Romulan Ale or Kanar filling their heads.  
  
- IKV Bo'Par, Main Bridge -  
  
"Sir, we are receiving a transmission from General Worf."  
  
"On screen!"  
  
"Well done Captain Luza! It is due to the glorious actions of you and your crew that we now have three front line Imperial vessels to study. And once we have their secrets, they will make fine additions to the fleet."  
  
"I thank you on behalf of my crew General. But they are warriors, and chafe at having to capture Imperial vessels. They and I both would be much happier if we could actively engage them in true ship to ship combat!"  
  
"I understand their feelings, they are ones I myself share. But the time is not yet right for the Great Alliance to strike boldly. Soon though Captain, we shall be free to smash any Imperial vessel that would dare stand in our path! Soon we shall strike a mighty blow for our people, and the mighty" his words literally dripped with sarcasm, "Terran Empire will be powerless to stop us!" 


	9. Chapter 7

- CHAPTER 7 -  
  
- ISS Hopolite, Deck Two, 8:02 AM Ships Time -  
  
Lieutenant P'tel was on her way to the mess hall for breakfast. She nearly lost her appetite as she approached the first corner. What was that awful smell? The hallway fairly reeked of a mixture of distasteful odors. Still walking, preoccupied with the stench, she tripped and fell over something blocking her path. Some maintenance tech is gonna get a new a$$ hole for leaving his shi* in the middle of the hall she thought as she brought her smarting ankle up to survey the damage. And as she looked at her sore ankle, it was then that she noticed that it wasn't a tool kit at all that had caused her to fall. A pair of legs laid at odd angles to each other. P'tel frowned, those shouldn't be there she thought. Her scowling eyes followed the legs up to see the owner to which they belonged.  
  
The lifeless eyes of Garret McBride stared back at her own, the front of his normally immaculate uniform was covered in a wet stain. Her Vulcan mind made the connections quickly from there. Assassinated, that had to be it she thought, but who? Her eyes roamed the rest of the hall, searching for the one whom had killed Captain McBride. Their questing gaze found what they searched for a second later. Lying not to far away from McBride was none other than Lt. Cmdr. Ulysses Vanguard. At first glance he appeared dead as well, the hilt of McBride's knife jutting out of his ribcage very near his heart. Just as she was about to turn away, she saw Ulysses chest rise slightly.  
  
Could he still be alive? P'tel moved closer and felt along his neck for a pulse. Yes, there was a pulse, but it was very weak. That was good P'tel thought, yet she kept feeling like she was missing something. She looked over the scene again, trying to stop the nagging voice in her head. OK, dagger in Vanguard's hand, McBride's in his chest. Both weapons accounted for. But if he was lying there, his dagger in one hand and McBride's in his chest, that meant that he hadn't used the antitoxin! There was neuro toxin coursing through his blood stream, and only she could stop it.  
  
She lurched into motion, her hand reaching for the blood drenched dagger lying clenched in Ulysses' hand. Careful to grasp only the handle lest she herself get poisoned, she hurriedly spun the bottom of the handle off. Once the antitoxin hypo spray was revealed, she pressed it against Ulysses jugular. With a soft hiss, the medicine was delivered into his blood stream. It was only then that P'tel smacked her com badge.  
  
"Lt. P'tel to Sic Bay, medical emergency, Deck Two, Section Two." She hit her com badge again then lowered her hands to either side of Ulysses head. She knew that it would be touch and go, even with the wonders of modern medicine. He had undoubtedly lost a lot of blood internally, and the neuro toxin had been in his body for what must have been a dangerous amount of time. She placed her fingers on Ulysses temples and whispered into his ear. "My mind to your mind, your thoughts to my thoughts."  
  
Her consciousness roamed the outer layers of his mind, attempting to get him into a Vulcan healing trance. To her shock, she found that he was already in a crude form of one. A mere human that was able to enter a healing trance unassisted? Her hand's still on Ulysses temples, her left eyebrow arched in surprise. It was impossible! And yet the fact that he was in one with no outside help was a fact. It was. most intriguing. She had to look deeper, delving into the deepest reaches of his mind. What she was doing was a gross violation of Vulcan protocol, but she had to know.  
  
What she found broke the meld. It was as if she first hit a barrier, then was forcibly evicted from Ulysses mind. Granted all Imperial officers and enlisted crew underwent training to resist telepathic mind control and probes, but this was of considerably greater order of magnitude than that training. P'tel should know, as she herself had taught many before she had gotten her first deep space assignment. Even among Vulcan's she had unusually strong telepathic powers. Yet she was unable to resist the psychic push that forced her from Ulysses mind.  
  
She was still staring in disbelief at Ulysses when she heard the turbo lift doors open and the rapid footsteps of the medical team. She knew that she needed to compose herself before they came. Quickly she forced her face into a neutral expression and stood from where she had been stooping next to Ulysses. She shunted all thoughts about the startling enigma that she had found, vowing that she would get to the bottom of it. But now was neither the time nor the place to do it.  
  
When the med team came trotting around the corner, P'tel turned to them and said the words that sealed the deal, acknowledging what had occurred here and making the change binding. They were also part of the regulations dealing with assassination. The words themselves had been taken from Earth's distant past, yet in their current context, they fit surprisingly well.  
  
"The Captain is dead, long live the Captain!"  
  
- Grand Alliance Base, Deep in the Badlands -  
  
Twisting lightning-like ribbons of amber colored plasma flashed all around the massive station for as far as the eye could see. Yet the area of space around the station, while still filled with turbulent plasma clouds, lacked the dangerous ferocity of its brethren lying just out of range of the station. That was the main reason that this area was chosen as a site for an Alliance base. It was both hidden and protected by the plasma storms raging around it. The Alliance's tactics also protected the station. No raids were launched anywhere near the base, or any of the Alliance's major bases for that matter. Instead they were clustered around carefully prepared areas. This allowed Starfleet Intelligence to believe that they were actually hurting the Alliance forces, when in actuality they were destroying mere decoy and secondary stations.  
  
The fact that the much-vaunted Terran Empire was so easily fooled into believing what it saw at face value merely made the job easier. They were so arrogant that they thought that the Empire's subject people could mount no credible threat to them. They didn't know how wrong they were. Not yet anyway, but they soon would feel the wrath of those they had crushed under their boot heels for so long.  
  
General Worf gazed upon the fury boiling seemingly just outside the portal, a lazy grin on his face. The last strike had gone better than expected. Not only had they captured the two Defiants and the Steam Runner, but they had captured the ships that came looking for them as well. When the initial ships didn't report back, Terran Sector Command had sent out an even more powerful fleet to find them. And they had fared no better than their three brethren. Even now, the two Galaxy class, one Nebula class, and five Akira class ships were undergoing refit at various hidden yards scattered around the Alpha and Beta quadrants. In the grand scheme of things, they were mere pinpricks but every little bit helped. And these pinpricks will allow us to execute our masterstroke. After generations living under Terran rule, our people will finally be free Worf thought, and his grin turned to a hungry tooth filled smile.  
  
Battle stations klaxons started screaming with out warning, there atonal wail cutting into the peace of Worf's quarters. Before he could respond, a voice came over his room's hidden speakers.  
  
"General Worf, we have an unidentified ship approaching from bearing 020 mark 040, range 500,000 kellicams! They are on a direct course towards the station. Sensors are having a hard time picking up the target because of the storms, but it appears to be a heavy cruiser of some sort."  
  
"Lock on weapons but hold your fire until either the cruiser opens fire or I say otherwise. I shall be in command shortly, Worf out." Worf was already out the door of his quarters. If it was the visitor he was expecting it all well and good that he be on the command deck to receive him. But on the off chance that it was an Imperial patrol, he needed to be in command as soon as possible. And thus he charged down the hall, the armor encased his feet clanging on the metal deck almost as loudly as the alarms that drove him to run in the first place. 


	10. Chapter 8

- CHAPTER 8 -  
  
- Alliance Space Station Retribution, deep inside the Badlands -  
  
"Report!" General Worf said as he strode onto the command deck.  
  
"The unknown is still closing, range now 1000 kellicams. Readings are still fuzzy but it appears to be a Cartel vessel!" the tactical officer said.  
  
"And they have made no threatening moves? Their shields and weapons off line?" Even among the cartels there were factions. And some of them didn't take kindly the cartel's involvement with the Alliance.  
  
"No Sir, their shields are active," completely justifiable in the energized space of the Badlands, "but their weapons are offline and they have merely continued to close at ¼ impulse. wait! I am receiving a hail!"  
  
"On screen."  
  
The viewer mounted high on the wall came to life, revealing a smiling visage. His almost cherubic features were clad in an expensive looking suit. You might even have mistaken him for an important executive or official from the Terran government, except for one small thing that made him seem out of place. On the left side of his face was a small tattoo, located just beneath the level of his brown eyes almost like it was a tear. It was the flame like dagger on a diamond that was the emblem of the Orion Cartel.  
  
"Hello General Worf. I hope that my unannounced arrival hasn't caused you any undue concern." The easy smile remained, and the tone of voice said volumes about what he thought about any concern Worf might have.  
  
"No, no trouble here. In fact," Worf showed a tooth filled grin, "my crews needed an unscheduled alert. I thank you for providing one." Other than a barely perceptible narrowing of his eyes, the Cartel head showed no outward reaction. Worf was sure that it was only due to his extensive dealings with the Orion Pirate that allowed him to even catch it. "You may dock at port A- 5 at your convenience." And before the Cartel head could respond, Worf cut the channel. "Secure from battle stations. And have Captain Luza report to docking port A-5. It is time she was introduced to our gracious benefactor."  
  
Peter "Humpty" O'tole had risen from a mere small time hood in the Cartel to become its most powerful leader in over 200 years. Due to the aggressive expansion of the Terran Empire, the other cartels had been ground down till they virtually ceased to exist. It was this power vacuum that the Orion Cartel had been only too happy to fill. Even the Empire itself had no true idea of just how large and powerful the Orion Cartel had grown.  
  
Which was fortunate for the member races of the Alliance. They had been skeptical at first, many of their leaders having become jaded after being driven from their homes and forced to fight a hopeless guerilla war against the Terran juggernaut. Yet hopeless as it was, they still fought on, attacking where they could, trying to score even tiny blows for their people living as slave species for the Terran Empire. In the end they knew that they would never succeed in their true goal, but with almost fanatical stubbornness they continued to strike at the massive construct that was the Terran Empire.  
  
And just when things seemed their darkest, when nearly all hope was extinguished, a single ray of sunshine filled the pit of despair. The Orion Cartel had approached them with an offer they couldn't refuse. They offered to set up clandestine bases and supply depots, even to build hidden shipyards for the slave species under Terran Empire rule. After seemingly endless years of struggling for no appreciable gain, what the Cartel offered was almost too good to be true. Yet the guerilla fighters had both few other options and little desire to not take them up on their offer.  
  
Which was why what had become the Alliance now boasted a considerable fleet of state of the art vessels. Initially the Cartel had been against building different ships for the individual Alliance races, citing that it was uneconomical to build such diverse designs for each former Empire's use. Yet the Alliance would have it no other way, and so the Cartel had been forced to relent. The brightest minds from each member race had then set upon the task of designing modern warships. The warships they came up with surely beat taking on the Terran Empire in a broken down Bird of Prey that was ancient before the Klingon Empire fell.  
  
But the Alliance's leaders were fools to think that all this 'friendly' support came without a price. The fact that the Cartel hadn't yet named their price gave Worf and many of his fellow warrior's cause for concern. They voiced their concerns on a regular basis, but it fell on largely deaf ears. Worf knew, not just suspected but knew that the Cartel would eventually call in the very large 'favor' that the Alliance owed them. He just hoped that it wouldn't be something that would not bring their newfound, hard-won, sovereignty to a premature end.  
  
- ISS Hopolite, Deck Three, Sic Bay, 4:00 PM Ships Time -  
  
For the second time in as many days, Ulysses Vanguard awoke to the medical/chemical smell of sickbay. The drug-induced haze clouded his mind, preventing him from making the links as to how he had gotten here.  
  
"Glad to see you are awake, Captain."  
  
For a moment his brain didn't take any special notice of the moniker the silken voice had attached so naturally to the end of her greeting. Then it seemed like his brain made all the connections at once. He had killed another sentient being in cold blood. And it wasn't some impersonal attack like pressing a button and ending the lives of hundreds via phased energy or matter/antimatter explosions. No this was something entirely different, something considerably worse. He could still see McBride's blood on his hands, coursing out to coat the front of his uniform. He nearly lost it right there in the sic bay. He had never killed someone face to face like that before, and he found that he didn't like it, not one bit. Yet a small portion of his soul laughed in satisfied glee.  
  
Ulysses reached up with his left arm and felt around where the knife wound should have been. There was only low-grade pain, no sign of any other damage. He was even wearing a new uniform. That must have been a sign of newfound respect. The last time he had been to sickbay, he had woken up in only his briefs. Whatever the reason for his present state of dress, he was eternally grateful. It allowed him to exit more quickly and gracefully than he had the last time. Cynthia noted his questing hand and after waiting a beat decided to clue Ulysses in.  
  
"All of your wounds are fully healed, although you may still be lightheaded. That is just a side effect of the antitoxin. It should wear off in about an hour or two. So, how does it feel to be the new, undisputed master of the Hopolite? All that power, you can do nearly anything you want." The way she said those last few words, it was positively scary. The relish she showed when she spoke of his newfound authority turned his stomach. How could one who's mind was so evil look like an angel and not like a devil made flesh?  
  
Ulysses turned away from the voice, its words flailing like a lash on his battered soul. Swinging his legs off of the bed so that he was sitting up with his back to the speaker, he finally allowed the horror of what he had done to pinch his features briefly. He didn't want her of all people to see the tears welling up in his eyes. Doctor Cynthia Unger was not the person to show any sign of weakness around.  
  
His turn brought the bed beside his own into his field of view. There was a shape hidden by a sheet on it. Thankful for any thing that changed the subject and gave him something to focus on other than the bloody murder he had committed mere hours earlier, Ulysses stood and walked over to the neighboring bed. His eyes narrowed. On closer inspection, the shape on the bed looked almost man sized.  
  
"Now that McBride is out of the way, there is no one between us. No reason to resist the attraction between us. We can be together at last, and what a team we will make." As she spoke, Cynthia walked up beside Ulysses and wrapped an arm around his waist. Ulysses had to force himself not to jump away like a scalded cat. He reached out and grasped the edge of the sheet tentatively. "Go ahead, it's just a small token of my devotion to you." Her voice took on a gleeful edge. "I hope you like it!" Ulysses hesitated, fearing what he might find under it. Finally he pulled the cover down.  
  
It was a body under the sheets, just as he had suspected. But it wasn't McBride like Ulysses had initially thought. That would have been morbid and sick enough. The reality was a million times worse. Cmdr Walter Elas, the ships first officer, lay beneath it. His normally boyish face was warped into a hideous mask of pain and terror, his lifeless eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling.  
  
Now Ulysses did recoil in horror. His hand flew away from the sheet and he jumped away from the embrace Cynthia had initiated. The sheet dropped back, half hiding the tortured features of the body beneath it, yet it could never wipe that horrible visage from Ulysses mind. What kind of monster could DO something like this?!  
  
"It was so easy." She said in an eager, excited voice, staring down intently at the corpse. "He came here to pay his respects to his new captain. I said I had to prepare a hypo in order to revive you. But what I really did was whip up a highly toxic substance. Then I just injected him as I came over to supposedly wake you up. He died in under a minute. I assure you, it was quite painful."  
  
Ulysses stomach was threatening to leap out of his throat, and he felt his knees getting weak. She was so matter of fact about the murder that she had just committed it boggled the mind. Cynthia finally turned to him and saw his ghost pale features. It was only then that she realized how badly she had miscalculated. Someone like McBride would have lauded her actions, but Ulysses Vanguard was most assuredly NOT like McBride. He could see how someone like McBride would be attracted by Cynthia and vice versa. But he wanted nothing at all to do with her, was repulsed by her attempts to win his confidence through murder.  
  
"Don't you see! I did this for you!" She pleaded, her twisted, sick logic trying to convince Ulysses that her true attentions were only to support him. "With him out of the way," she said, gesturing absently to the corpse on the biobed, "there is no one that could challenge you before you secure your power base. The ship is yours! We can rule it together and be unstoppable!"  
  
"STOP!" Ulysses cried, his horror evident on his face. "Not another word!" Without even thinking, Ulysses whipped out the phaser that lay in his holster and pointed it at Doctor Unger. Then he smacked his combadge. "Captain Vanguard to security. Send a team to sickbay immediately!"  
  
"What are you doing!?"  
  
"Making sure that you don't have a chance to kill anyone else." That much should have been self evident, even to someone as deranged as her.  
  
"But. but. WHY?" There was pain in her voice, the pain of rejection, the pain of humiliation, the pain of dawning knowledge that she had made a serious miscalculation.  
  
"Because you are a sick, twisted person and I don't want you in a position of responsibility that you have no right having. I want you behind a force field so you can only hurt yourself."  
  
The doors to sickbay opened and in swept the security team with their phaser rifles clutched tight to their shoulders. They swept the room smartly, slicing the pie as they breached the doorway. The low lights of sickbay gleamed dully off of their matte charcoal gray body armor. The monocle sights attached to their helmets quickly sorted out that there were only two individuals in the room. One was their new captain, who had a standard issue type-2 phaser trained on the other.  
  
"Take Doctor Unger to the brig under the charge of murder." He said in dispassionate tones despite the revulsion he felt. As he spoke, his eyes never left Cynthia. "At earliest possible opportunity she is to be sent to Starfleet Headquarters for a formal court martial."  
  
"Understood sir!" The detail leader said. "You heard the captain. Ramirez, Chadwick, take Unger into custody." As the two security officers went forward, their three fellows spread further apart in order to maintain a clear field of fire on their target. It was only after she had been cuffed and had her phaser and dagger removed that they relaxed slightly. Cynthia put up no resistance as the led her out of sickbay. She appeared to be in shock.  
  
With a shiver of released nervous energy, Ulysses turned and spied a crimson cloak draped over the desk in Cynthia's office. He strode confidently into the office and placed the cloak around his shoulders. The detail guard nodded in approval.  
  
"Your orders shall be carried out sir. Do you have any thing further to add?"  
  
"No that will be all for now Lt. Bingim, you may go."  
  
It was only after the doors swished closed that Ulysses sank down to his knees. Massive sobs wracked his body. Having taken a life to gain command was bad enough, but it seemed like every senior officer in his new command was either dead or insane. Ulysses had always been an outsider, but only one other time in his life had he felt so alone and lost. 


	11. Chapter 9

- CHAPTER 9 -  
  
- Sickbay, ISS Hopolite -  
  
Enough feeling sorry for your situation, Ulysses heard the tight ball of hate buried and chained deep in his soul speak. So here you are, surrounded by animals. So what! It isn't like you didn't realize this ahead of time. You walked into this position with your eyes wide open. Of all the people in the Galaxy, you should have known what some of them could be like. So get up off of the floor. The time for self-doubt is OVER. Ulysses listened to the knot of rage at his core, for while it was something to be kept in check at all times, it was also the source of much of his strength.  
  
He picked himself up off of the floor, brushing away imaginary dirt from his knees. Then he wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands. No more looking back on what could have been. The here and now was what mattered and it required a will of steel. He squared his shoulders and started towards the door.  
  
It opened before he got there. In strode P'tel. Ulysses opened his mouth to speak but was shushed by P'tel raising her index finger to her mouth. Then she made a point of bringing the device she held in her hands up to eye level and turned it on. There was a slight hum and then the sights and sounds of a starship faded away. The two of them were standing in the middle of an egg shaped enclosure. Its walls were a highly distorted view of the sickbay, and the only sound came from the two figures it encased.  
  
"Now we can talk without prying eyes and ears." She said  
  
"A personal bug blocker. But why do you feel you need it?"  
  
"You know full well that without one any person whom chooses to can listen to our conversation. Even with one the chance still exists, but as far as I know Section 31 has had no reason to search this ship for traitors." With the mention of traitors, every mental guard Ulysses possessed slammed down hard. P'tel leaned close to him, her mouth scant inches from his ear. She whispered, "I found you with the ceremonial dagger in your chest. I was the one whom saved you. I tried to place you in a healing trance, but your mind is unlike anything I have ever encountered before. What are you Captain?"  
  
And strangely, he felt that he could risk telling her his secrets. In fact, he felt strongly compelled to tell her. For whatever reason, not telling her now would be far worse in the long run than telling her. He didn't know how he could possibly know that, but he did.  
  
"If you are sure you want to know, I will tell you." If she was surprised by his candid response, she didn't let on. She just stared intently into his eyes, as if she could see his very soul. "I am part El-Aurian." He continued.  
  
P'tel's breath hissed in between her clenched teeth with both eyebrows raising higher than seemed physically possible. "But all El-Aurians were supposed to have been hunted down and killed. The orders came directly from High Command and the Council. They were labeled a Class - A threat, one of the greatest magnitude, to the Terran Empire." Ulysses just shrugged and nodded with a sheepish look on his face.  
  
"That's me, a major threat to the Empire all right." She frowned at him, so he continued. "Fortunately for me, they missed my mother. I am one half El-Aurian, my father was fully human. For the most part, I appear and scan just like a normal human. But I have better developed telepathic abilities than any normal human. And every once in a great while, I get a. well. a sense I suppose. of which path to take, which decision to make. Its really hard to pin down, even I don't fully understand it."  
  
"Is that why you have such inner peace?" Her worried face took on a demanding gleam and she gripped the front of Ulysses uniform. "Tell me!" If only she knew the truth Ulysses thought. All that inner peace was only window dressing on a soul that was every bit as dark and hate filled as the worst Imperial officer's. That inner peace was merely the bars to the hate's cage, keeping it from leaking out like it had before.  
  
"In part, but only slightly. I also subscribe to the teachings of a certain Vulcan, which is the larger part of it." The demanding gleam disappeared, and was replaced with the most pitiful look on any sentient being, let alone a Vulcan, that Ulysses had ever seen. It was part longing and part ravenous hunger rolled into one.  
  
"Can you teach me? Can you guide me in how to find this beautiful peace that you have created?" His life was at a crossroads, and for one of those infrequent times in his life, he had no doubts as to which was the better path to take. His sense was making that adamantly clear.  
  
"I will try. I make no guarantees as each follower of the teachings of Spock must find his own way to the peace, but I promise you I will try. In the mean time Miss First Officer, we need to start whipping this ship into shape."  
  
"Understood Sir. And Captain. thank you."  
  
"Miss P'tel, you are most welcome."  
  
- Alliance Space Station Retribution, that same time -  
  
Luza stood next to the lock with General Worf. She was about to meet someone important to the Alliance cause, but it remained as nebulous as the plasma storms raging around the station weather he was a true benefactor or a wolf in sheep's clothing. Personally, she agreed with the majority of the Klingon Warriors in that he was not to be trusted. But the High Council and the Chancellor of the New Klingon Empire DID trust him, which made him someone to watch.  
  
The lock cycled open and out stepped a slightly overweight individual. In his expensive cloths and with his ever-present smile, it was hard to tell that he was the most powerful criminal in this half of the galaxy. The neat moustache he kept was not what you usually associated with pirates. All of the holovids showed them to be more eccentric, bloodthirsty caricatures, so the difference was to be expected. But the sheer AMMOUNT of difference was astonishing. His hair was also neatly trimmed, with a mass of tight blond curls topping his head  
  
Peter O'Tole also had a charming personality to match his slightly paunchy good looks. At first glance, you would dismiss him as some has been playboy. Many of his former competitors in the Cartel had also dismissed him as easily. They weren't around anymore, and few people with any brains at all underestimated Peter O'Tole now. As he cleared the lock, a procession of six bulky, heavily armed men followed him. While Peter O'Tole wasn't often underestimated, he never underestimated his many opponents either. In his fast rise to the top spot in the Orion Cartel, he had made many enemies. Thus he went everywhere, even on allied space stations, with an entourage of highly skilled personal guards.  
  
"I trust that our new allies weapon functioned as advertised? Did I not tell you that it was a wondrous invention that the Breen decided to share with us in exchange for getting their homeworld back?" He virtually ignored Luza, concentrating instead on Worf. As he talked, they all started down the hall.  
  
"Yes you did, and we are grateful towards our Breen allies for their help. That is all any of us want. All we want is our homelands back from the Terrans."  
  
"And you will get just that once we launch our offensive. But the time is not yet ready. Soon the Breen Energy Dampening Weapon will be added to most of the Alliance's major ships. Until then we mustn't do anything to cause them undue concern." He spoke as if to a slow child, not one of the most successful Klingon military commanders currently living.  
  
"I understand." Worf said with strained patience.  
  
"I still don't like the Idea of building individual ships and systems for all of the members of the Alliance."  
  
"We have been through this many times before. Once we kick the Empire out of our space, once we crush them from the face of the Galaxy, all members in the Alliance will become the proud peoples that we once were. Proud DIFFERENT peoples. Therefore, we need fleets of our own, not just a massive homogeneous mass like the Terran Empire."  
  
"But it would simplify manufacturing greatly if you all used at least similar hulls."  
  
"We are using by and large similar weapons, that is enough. Besides, most of our fleets are already completed, so continued arguments serve little purpose." Fortunately he didn't need to listen to Don O'Tole's complaints for much longer. "Ah, here are your quarters. I trust that they will be to your satisfaction. You may freshen up here, then join myself and my senior officers for dinner tonight. If you will excuse me, I have duties to attend to." Luza followed him down the hall, hurrying to keep up with his powerful stride. Only once they were out of earshot did she speak.  
  
"How can you stand that glob fly? I can't believe that one such as he could be so powerful." She said. Worf stopped suddenly and whirled to face her.  
  
"Don't underestimate him. That was all an act, one that he does well. He may seem like a glob fly, but he is vastly more dangerous than one. The High Council may believe his lies, but he is up to something, of this I am certain."  
  
"I understand sir. His seemingly mindless dronings lulled my guard. It will not happen again."  
  
"See that it doesn't. When the time comes, the Empire will need people like you to guard it against people like him." 


	12. Chapter 10

- CHAPTER 10 -  
  
- ISS Hopolite, Main Bridge -  
  
The turbolift doors opened and in strode the new absolute master of the Hopolite. On the same side as the organic looking remnant of a Borg ocular implant, on his collar, were the four sparkling gold pips of a Captain. The silver clasps holding the platinum edged crimson silk robe gleamed, even in the dull light of the Bridge. A step and a half behind him was his new first officer. Cmdr. P'tel's usually haughty features seemed to have grown even more so, as if emboldened by the new red accents on her uniform in place of her science department blue.  
  
"Captain on the bridge!" the watch command said as he braced to attention in front of the command chair.  
  
"As you were." The bridge crew still looked like they were at attention, despite assuming parade rest. That was good. It showed that, on the surface at least, they were willing to accept his unusual ascension to Captain rank. Thinking that brought back all the memories of what he had done, causing his stomach to flip-flop. He forced it to cease, never once showing his discomfort on his face. "Com, give me all ships address please." The use of please caused a moment of disconcertion on the com officers part. He had never heard a superior officer use it when giving an order. Not that he minded, on the contrary the thought that the new captain considered his crew near equals instead of the usual slave driver/lackey relationship appealed to him. While the aura of command permeated the order, the fact that it was phrased like a request made the officer want to follow it. And not out of fear of punishment for failure, but of fear of causing his new Captain to change his opinion of him.  
  
"Aye sir." After pressing a few buttons the high pitched whistling boson's pipe chords caused nearly all action on the ship to stop. Those that were doing functions vital to the continued operation of the ship continued to work, but they too turned their ears to the all ship announcement.  
  
"Crew of the Imperial Star Ship Hopolite, this is Captain Ulysses Vanguard. I have assumed command of this vessel. While under my command, things are going to be a little different than they were before. Starting now, while the ship is on day cycle, all lighting in common and work areas will be raised to 90% maximum. The temperature in said areas will also be dropped to 22 degrees Centigrade." There was no reason to tell them that this would most certainly increase their concentration and productivity. To do so would cause the inevitable troublemakers to drag their heels even more than usual. "You are, of course free to regulate the lighting and temperature in your own quarters as you see fit, but any deviation from these directives in both common and work areas will be met with strict punishment. Thank you for your time, Vanguard out."  
  
"Computer," Ulysses continued, "decrease shipboard temperature to 22 degrees Centigrade in all areas but personal quarters. Also increase lighting in all areas but personal quarters to 90% max."  
  
"Complying." The feminine voiced idiot savant replied. The crew seemed to wince and shiver at the same time. The much brighter than usual lighting irritated their eyes until their iris closed enough. And the sudden droop of close to 10 degrees, while not dangerous by any stretch of the imagination, was still a drastic change for those accustomed to warmer temperatures to get a chill. Under the more powerful lights, the silver and gray tones of the ship's interior became evident.  
  
The tactical stations beeped in unison to attract their operators' attention. Chief tactical officer Lt. Cmdr. Percy Davenport and his first deputy Lt. Gabe Eton settled into their chairs to find out what was happening. Once the Captain sat in his chair, the rest of the bridge crew followed suit and started scanning their panels.  
  
"Captain," Percy said, "sensors are reporting the arrival of a fleet of ships. They have dropped out of slipstream 500,000 km away. They appear to be 24th Fleet sir."  
  
"Put them on screen. Transmit standard challenge." The main viewer switched from a view of the Borg station to the massed ships of 24th Fleet slipping rapidly through space. They did indeed appear to be the ships that the Hopolite had been waiting for. The feeble light from the red dwarf that was this systems sorry excuse for a star gave their dark gray hulls and pale blue slipstream nacelles a sickly orange cast. Their spotlights cast a pool of brilliant light on the silver names and registry numbers painted on the forward part of their saucers. They also shone on the silver pennant of the Terran Empire flowing along the sides of their secondary hulls.  
  
They were in standard transit formation. First came a solid, slightly dome shaped wall of Defiant and Saber class vessels. Behind them came a slightly smaller wall of Intrepid, Steamrunner and Norway class ships. Next were the orderly ranks of 24th Fleet's capital ships. 10 Galaxy, 10 Akira, 15 Sovereign, 10 Prometheus, 3 Aegean class and 2 AWAC Nebula class ships constituted them. Finally, the fleet flagship trailed behind the rest. The Wraith class ISS Vengeance was twice again the size of a Sovereign. It looked a lot like a Prometheus class writ large.  
  
The Wraith class program had been started at Starfleet Research and Development over 10 years before. The original specs had called for a dreadnought that could effectively engage a Borg Tactical Cube one on one and come out the victor on the other side. The end result was the ISS Wraith prototype. The massive vessel boasted enormous amounts of standard ablative armor, running over a meter thick. Over this, the new ablative armor generators had been mounted. They combined replicator and transporter technology to create a 3-foot thick layer of regenerating armor. Its regenerative shields went back to full strength in seconds, and it changed frequency thousands of times a second to keep Borg adaptation guessing. While some might think that its size would cause it to be hit more often, the larger size enabled more powerful shield generators to be installed, more than making up for the greater frequency of hits her larger hull would be forced to take.  
  
It had been decided early on that while the new ship wouldn't have the Prometheus' multi vector assault mode, it would have its redundancy. Four separate Slipstream cores were scattered throughout the primary and secondary hulls. Each one was capable of meeting the power requirements of the entire ship all on its own. In a great departure from tradition, the main bridge was not located on deck one at the top of the primary hull. Instead, it was located on deck 18, in the middle of the saucer section to increase command staff survivability.  
  
Three massive impulse engines were mounted on the rear of the arrowhead saucer section. They were able to give the ship maneuverability just slightly lower than that of a Sovereign. It also was equipped and designed, like the Prometheus shortly before it, to make better use of the newly acquired Quantum Slipstream drive. While standard, old style ships could use Slipstream, their hull forms were not designed to make EFFECTIVE use of it. They could only travel at around 3/4 the speed in Slipstream that designs like the Prometheus and Wraith could.  
  
The ship also mounted weapons systems almost exclusively designed to engage the Borg. Two massive Type I Phaser Lances poked out of both the left and right side leading edge of the angular primary hull. The Type I Phaser Lance was a combination of captured Lyran ESG Lance tech combined with a very heavy phaser bank. The result was a massive weapon that, while slow firing, was capable of nearly cutting a Borg ship in half in one shot. Arrays of Type XIV Phasers wreathed the ship like deadly pearl necklaces. Type XIV Phasers were among the first normal phasers designed to from the ground up to fight the Borg. They jumped frequencies at random every nanosecond. Although their output was slightly less than the Type XII, they were able to penetrate Borg shields more often and more rapidly, making them considerably more deadly. Four burst-fire Quantum torpedo tubes faced fore and aft, fed by massive internal magazines.  
  
A single massive launcher faced fore and aft down the centerline of the primary hull. It held the latest generation of Heavy Photon Torpedo. The size of a large shuttle, the Heavy torps were usually packed to the gills with massive amounts of antimatter or less often as M/AM explosives. They were used primarily against hardened targets after their shields went down, using the ships own hull as the other half of the matter/antimatter reaction. Due to their size, only 10 shots could be taken before the internal magazines ran dry, but it those shots his exposed hull, the ship turned into Swiss cheese if it remained at all.  
  
20 Type II Pulse Phasers in ball turrets were also scattered across the hull. They were mated with a Phalanx Torpedo launcher each, and were primarily tasked with suppressing anything smaller than a Destroyer sized vessel. The Phalanx Torpedo was a Quantum Torpedo the size of a man's head. They only had about 1/20 the power of a normal Quantum, but they could be carried in much greater numbers due to their small size. And when fired in a volley of multiple launchers, even they could hurt.  
  
The class had done very well against the Borg, especially at The Battle of First Urati. A fleet of two Borg Cubes, Three Spheres and 15 Interceptors had caught the Imperial 5th fleet during a resupply from the fleet train colliers. The two Wraith class vessels had been the only ones to have their stores topped off. The fleets Galaxies, Sovereigns, Intrepids, Steamrunners, Prometheus's and various smaller vessels had been forced to engage them with only their phasers and the few torpedoes left in their magazines. Although 1/4 of the lesser vessels had been destroyed outright, and the remaining ones damaged to greater or lesser extents, the two Wraiths had equated themselves well. Although one was destroyed when a sphere got close enough and rammed it, the other was only lightly damaged. On the other hand, all that was left of the Borg was expanding clouds of plasma and debris. The Wraith class vessels were truly the best Super Dreadnought sized ship in known space, and more than a worthy successor to the old Yamato class SD.  
  
"Sir, our challenge has been accepted and the appropriate counter sign has been transmitted. 24th Fleet's flagship is hailing."  
  
"Patch it through Lt. Nugen."  
  
The vast swarm of closing ships on the viewer was replaced for a second by the silver sword and planet insignia of the Terran Empire. Then the dark bridge of the leviathan appeared. A man in the white and gold uniform of an admiral luxuriated in his command chair. His left breast was filled with a rather large cluster of campaign medals. From the horizontal, gold edged black bars on his shoulders filled with five gold pips and the circular pin of oak wreathed arrows on his collar tabs, he was a Fleet Admiral. And therefore he was 24th Fleet's commanding officer. His hair was well on the road from jet-black to silver, and while his face had the lines that age slowly but surely etched, his hazel eyes were still sharp. His elderly yet trim figure cut a dashing picture on the viewer. But Ulysses eyes couldn't help but be drawn to the figure crouched beside him.  
  
There on the end of a chain, more like a leash, was the sorriest looking creature Ulysses had ever seen. The usually proud and stoic features of a Klingon warrior, even one raised as a slave, were long since absent from this ones face. His cheeks were sunken and the bony brow ridges were even more pronounced. He had large dark patches under his sunken eyes, or rather eye as one was covered in a seemingly riveted on patch. It was a haunted eye, an eye that seemed to have lost the spark of life. Yet the creature beside the Fleet Admiral still breathed, though he was terribly still except for when he involuntarily flinched when Fleet Admiral Tomas Chriton gave the leash/chain a quick tug. Admiral Chriton gave a slow smirk that barely lifted the corners of his mouth at the Klingon's reaction, and then turned to face the pickup again. Ulysses felt his stomach turn to ice and a shudder threatened to burst forth, but he fought it down. He had thought that Captain McBride had been bad, but he had had nothing on this monster in human guise before him. Even across the com, he radiated a palpable sense of evil.  
  
"This is Fleet Admiral Tomas Chriton of 24th Fleet hailing ISS Hopolite. I do hope that you have everything ready as you were ordered to do. It just makes things go so much smoother. Not that I mind when things aren't in order. Then things may become a little rougher that way, but it is ever so much more fun!" His gravely voice was almost as scary as Ulysses had imagined it would be. And the way his face lit up when he spoke his last.  
  
"It is my privilege to report that the Borg station is operational, and ready to be activated at your leisure Admiral." Ulysses managed to ground out without having his voice squeak.  
  
"Then I shall contact you again when the 24th establishes a defensive perimeter, Chriton out." He almost seemed disappointed that everything had gone far better than was initially hoped. Almost like he had actually WANTED something to be out of order so he would be able to do unmentionable things to someone. Ulysses did shudder. That man was positively scary he thought, and judging by the reactions of the rest of the bridge crew, he wasn't the only one to feel that way. Ulysses thought hard for a moment, searching his memory for the appropriate term. Ah yes, he thought, that man give out a definite case of the hebe jebies. 


	13. Chapter 11

- CHAPTER 11 -  
  
- ISS Hopolite, Captain's Ready Room, Two Minutes Later -  
  
Ulysses turned to P'tel. "Well, how about we see just whom we are going to be dealing with. Computer, please list the high points of the service record for Fleet Admiral Tomas Chriton starting from the when he first became a Commodore, in chronological order."  
  
"Processing." The machine replied, and for a few seconds the room was silent. Then the computer dispassionately continued. "First action after assuming command of the Battlecruiser ISS Chernobin was placation of the Irridani uprising in 2324. Casualties: 100 fleet marines, 900,000 Irridani combatants." Ulysses shuddered. While the total casualties had been small in the grand scheme of things, they represented close to half of Irridani's total population. All the Irridani had wanted was to have free elections. Imperial officials would have none of it and violently put down the resulting protestors. The casualties showed what happened when the ~ 1 million strong hastily assembled militia went head to head with 2 million Marines with attack craft, power armor, tanks, and orbiting Fleet fire support. And most hadn't even been killed during the fighting. When the Marines hit the first few pockets of organized resistance, the Irridani knew they were licked. Most surrendered shortly thereafter, hoping for mercy. Then Commodore Chriton had ordered hundreds of thousands of them shot for unlawful rebellion against the Terran Empire.  
  
"As a result of successful and rapid execution of his orders, Commodore Chriton was promoted to Admiral in 2325. His next major action was the conquest of the Cardassian Union in 2333. He was second in command of the Third Fleet when first contact was made with the Cardassians. Third Fleet was dispatched to bring Cardassian space under Terran Empire control. First action of the Cardassian Campaign: Near complete destruction of the Cardassian battle fleet near the Bajor System. Second action: supervising of the cleansing of the Cardassian home world. Seven Billion estimated casualties." Cleansing was a neat and tidy word for a very dirty and despicable action. Cleansing a world involved using a Genesis Device on it, converting a planet filled with potential combatants to a world ripe for colonization.  
  
"Because of successful execution of his orders, Admiral Chriton was promoted to Fleet Admiral and placed in overall command of 24th Fleet in 2334. Next major operation was the Conquest of the Dominion in 2370. Although 24th Fleet was only a small part of the operation, it distinguished itself well in combat vs. the Jem'Hadar forces. 24th Fleet was the primary element involved in the cleansing of the Dominion Core Worlds in 2374." This operation was made possible by the fact that a network of subspace tunnels had been discovered accidentally in 2368.  
  
The Ambassador class USS Voyager literally stumbled into one. After a few hours, the crew finally figured out how to get out of it. When the Voyager returned to normal space, they found that they had traveled a surprisingly large distance. Retracing the events that had led up to the accident, they found that they were able to open access to these, subspace tunnels whenever they wanted. The tunnels opened up the galaxy to the growing Terran Empire. Without them, the sheer distances involved in keeping its holdings under control would have limited the final scope of the Terran Empire or greatly increased its military expenditures to keep pace with its rapidly expanding borders. But since Warp Drive wasn't needed for long distance travel after the discovery of the tunnels, a new wave of conquest followed on their heels.  
  
"Next major mission was the Conquest of the Borg in 2375. 24th Fleet was responsible for both spearheading the initial and the final attacks on Borg space, including the final assault on Unimatrix Two in system 993C TI42 and the subsequent destruction of the new Borg Queen." The first attack on Borg space had involved a surprise attack on the recently located Borg Unimatrix. Involving nearly 500,000 ships striking from subspace tunnels simultaneously, the Unimatrix never stood a chance. 24th Fleet was the first formation out of the tunnels, and they destroyed five Cubes before the Borg even began to respond. With the specially designed weapons and shield enhancements, the Imperial ships had been virtually invulnerable to normal Borg assimilation tactics. That combined with surprise and the scale of the attack enabled the rapid destruction of the Borg Unimatrix. But the Imperial ships did have casualties. Invulnerability to assimilation wasn't the same as invulnerability to conventional weaponry, of which the Borg had in copious amounts.  
  
"Initial attack on first Borg Unimatrix resulted in the loss of 100,000 ships, including 3,000 of the then new Wraith class vessels. Most losses were due to last ditch ramming by Borg vessels." Subsequent attacks were virtual turkey shoots, as the Borg seemed highly uncoordinated due to the loss of their Queen thanks to the destruction of the Unimatrix. Then things changed. "In an even more distant part of the Delta Quadrant, a new Unimatrix and Borg queen had been created. The Borg found their feet and started using more intelligent tactics against the Terran Fleet. They also adapted, at least in part, to the anti Borg measures that the Empire had undertaken. Suddenly, weapons systems were no where near as effective and shields could often be breached by Borg assimilation and holding beams. While Fleet R&D scrambled to find a way to counteract these Borg advances, Starfleet fought valiantly against their suddenly superior foe. It was only because the Borg fleet had been so devastated before they found their feet again that allowed Starfleet to win in the end, and it had taken 5 long years of hard fighting to do it.  
  
"24th Fleet successfully penetrated Unimatrix Two's defensive perimeter and launched a volley of Genesis warheads at the complex. One got through and remade the Borg station, and the Queen within it, into a small, M-class world. With the subsequent confusion in the Borg ranks, the surviving Fleet units proceeded to destroy all remaining Borg from this galaxy. Because of his pivotal role in the destruction of both Unimatrix complexes, Fleet Admiral Chriton was decorated with the Lion of Terra with clusters. He is currently the only serving fleet officer to be so decorated. He remains in command of 24th Fleet as of current stardate 03.13.2380." The computer finished its dialogue.  
  
"So basically he has virtually no compunction to uses extreme force when he feels it is needed." Ulysses said, a frown on his face and sour taste in his mouth. "Not that that isn't the usual actions of Admiral's and the Terran Empire Council that they serve."  
  
"Granted Captain." P'tel said, and even her usually reserved features showed horror. Many serving fleet officers went out of their way not to see the casualty figures that the Terran Empire had caused. It let them sleep better at night. "But since we are in no position to do anything about it, we need to follow this. man's," she ground out, "orders. And he does seem determined, if not creative, in all of his tactics." Just looking at the 24th's casualties, Ulysses was inclined to agree.  
  
"That loss rate is incredibly high. Sure he gets the job done, but he has no finesse. He just charges straight at the problem, instead of looking for a more elegant solution that would save more of his command's lives. Sooner or later, he is going to hit an enemy that that tactic isn't going to work against." As he said the words, a sense of foreboding came over him, setting the hairs on the back of his neck up, blowing through him like the breath of death itself.  
  
"What's the mater sir? Your skin has gone very pale, and you look afraid." There was genuine concern in her voice. Ulysses shook himself.  
  
"I'm not sure. I just suddenly got a very disturbing feeling, like somebody walking over my grave."  
  
"Despite living so long with human's, that is one idiom I will never understand. How can someone walk on your grave when you aren't dead yet? It is highly illogical, even for a human idea."  
  
Ulysses opened his mouth to reply, but his communicator chirped just then, cutting him off. He gave it the customary activation tap. "Vanguard"  
  
"Captain, the Shiva is hailing us. Fleet Admiral Chriton wants a word with you."  
  
"On my way." Ulysses somehow managed to hide the distaste and more than a little fear from his reply. He stood and strode determinedly back onto the bridge, with P'tel following him.  
  
"Put it up."  
  
The faintly smiling face of Tomas Chriton appeared on the view screen. "Captain, now that the defensive perimeter is established, I invite you to dine with me tonight on the Shiva."  
  
"I would be honored sir. What time should I transport over?"  
  
"7:00PM sharp, but don't use the transporter. Come in a shuttle." That was an odd request, but Ulysses was far too much Chriton's junior to comment on it.  
  
"As you command sir."  
  
"Splendid!" The Admiral said. "Chriton out." The screen blanked for a split second, showing the Terran Empire emblem, then the outside starfield replaced it. Why in the world, Ulysses thought, would Chriton want him to use a shuttle? 


	14. Chapter 12

- CHAPTER 12 -  
  
- Shuttle Pod Concordia, Enroute to I.S.S. Shiva, 6:38 PM Ships Time -  
  
A lone shuttle pod cruised closer to the imposing bulk of the Shiva. As the gargantuan ship swelled in the forward window, Ulysses began to realize why Chriton had wanted him to use a shuttle. The shuttle was like a mere tic on the back of a massive steed, small and inconsequential. It was a tactic designed to make him feel smaller, to remind him of his place in the Admiral's grand scheme of things. And as much as he hated to admit it, Ulysses was feeling slightly insignificant against the vast mountain of alloy and armor in front of him. It seemed plastered with weapons emplacements and armor generators, with the odd window thrown in barely breaking up the pattern. But those windows were few and far between, clustered islands of blue white light shining out in a sea of dark gray armor.  
  
The shuttle pod aligned with the bay, and its ten deck high and 80 foot wide doors began to ponderously slide open to reveal the cavernous interior within. Flight Operations Command was stationed high up on the far wall of the main hangar, ten decks up off of the main floor. Along the sides of the bay were the multi tiered docking slots for the various small craft a Wraith class carried. Some bays were empty, some had parked ships in them, and some had partially dismantled ships undergoing maintenance by scores of engineers.  
  
You could damn near fit the entire Hopolite inside here, Ulysses thought. There must be close to 50 fighters docked in side here, not to mention the four runabouts and 20 odd shuttlecraft of various types. Of course with a vessel the size of a Wraith class, that was to be expected. And all of it just reinforced how small Ulysses command was. Hopolite, despite all her power, was like a mere child's toy compared to this leviathan. In a fight between the two, the Hopolite's attacks would barely be noticed before she was snuffed out of existence by the massive weaponry a Wraith class possessed. Chriton certainly knew what he was doing when it came to making junior officers' feel small and insignificant. In all likelihood, Chriton or one of his staff, had read his personnel file. They would then know that he had never served on a ship bigger than an Akira class. At the time, then Lt. Ulysses had thought that ship massive. He now knew just how uninformed that personal opinion had been.  
  
Landing in one of the quieter corners of the bay, the shuttle pilot began to shut down systems. Techs and engineering personnel were scurrying around like ants, servicing the Shiva's various fighters and small craft. The sheer scale of operations was something that was usually only seen on starbases, not on starships. Yet the Wraith class was one of the biggest vessels in space and was the flagship of an entire fleet. It was because of this that it was a beehive of activity. Ulysses got out of the shuttle pod, entering into the cavernous bay. There was a man standing at the foot of the shuttle's ramp. His black and silver uniform had the gold and white sleeve band of a flag staff officer. The officer's rank was that of Lt. Cmdr.  
  
"Captain Ulysses?" He questioned as if stating facts in a brisk manner. "If you would be so kind as to follow me." And without a backward glance the flag staff officer turned and strode quickly towards the port side bay exit. Ulysses pursed his lips in a silent whistle. It appeared that Chriton's attitudes towards those lower ranking than he was had rubbed off to at least this member of his staff. No usual Lt. Cmdr. would have dared act like that to a Captain. Yet this one acted like it was merely a mater of course. Ulysses hurried to catch up with him as he walked through the bay exit. Given the way the crewmembers, even those with a similar rank, made way for him, Ulysses thought that he must have been used to having officers fear him. Most of that was probably due to the fact that he was a representative of Fleet Admiral Chriton. Ulysses had no doubt that the Admiral could cause such a reaction from other people, even by proxy through his staff. Just thinking about the Admiral send fresh chills down his spine. And it wasn't even so much his actions, it was more of the aura of dread that he projected so ably.  
  
The main shuttle bay of the Shiva was also much farther away from the Flag Officers dining room than the transporter room was. This allowed for a much longer trip through the ship, further reinforcing its size and grandeur. Yes, Chriton most certainly knew how to best belittle his junior officers, even when he was nowhere near them. After a trip that seemed to take ages after serving most of his career on small ships, Ulysses and the staff officer finally approached the meeting place. The twin transparent doors swooshed open, hiding the etched translucent relief of Shiva, the ship's ensign. Darkness and light played across each other in the dining room beyond. A massive window dominated one entire wall. Where most vessels had only small windows, this one ran from one end of the room to the other and from floor to ceiling, without interruption. Ulysses looked out the massive window upon the top of the engineering hull, the massive upper quantum slipstream drive nacelles gave off a pale blue glow on the dark gray ablative armor that was an integral part of the Shiva's hull. Beyond the Shiva, many of 24th Fleet's units could be seen as they went about establishing a perimeter encompassing the entire Borg installation. The stunning display was made even more powerful by the fact that the room's roof was taller than normal. Most decks were around seven and a half feet tall. This one seemed to be close to 20 feet tall.  
  
Lighting had been turned down to a very dim setting, causing the room to be illuminated primarily by the QSS nacelle glow and very slightly by the meager solar furnace burning around a light hour away. Having nearly an entire wall all but open to space made Ulysses, despite his many years in space, more than a little awe struck. The view was quite simply amazing. There, in the middle of the window, with his back turned to the room, was a figure in the brilliant white and shimmering gold of a flag officer. A dagger with a handle of what looked like gold and a metal so polished it could have passed for a mirror intertwined into intricate patterns graced one hip. A standard Type-II phaser was holstered on the other. The Admiral was standing at ease with his wrinkled, age spotted hands clasped lightly behind his back. They looked more like a bird of prey's talons than aged human hands. And they still held that finely worked silver colored chain. Crouched a few feet behind the Admiral was the same dejected form that Ulysses had first glimpsed on the Hopolite's main viewer. In the pale blue light coming from the window, the Klingon seemed to become even sicklier looking. The light caused his eye to disappear into the shadows below his bushy eyebrows. But Ulysses could spare him little time for a second glance because Admiral Chriton turned his head slowly towards him. When those eagle like hazel eyes settled on him, Ulysses nearly froze in mid stride.  
  
Blue light made the Admiral appear like a phantasm, some ghostly apparition straight from hell. His hazel eyes were turned black pits, as if for the first time in their existence showing the utter darkness within their owner's soul. His creased and age spotted skin was changed to a deathly pale grayish blue. His sliver white mane took on the same blue gray tint as his skin, with the odd black hair mixed in with its far more multitudinous counterparts. That same twisted half smile again played at the corners of the Admiral's mouth resembling some hell spawned imp's. It was as if time itself stopped for a split second. All sound normally associated with a starship ceased inside that room for what seemed like an eternity. Then the Admiral's staff officer spoke, his voice breaking the spell that had numbed both Ulysses brain and his very soul.  
  
"Fleet Admiral Chriton, I present to you Captain Ulysses Vanguard, commanding officer of the ISS Hopolite."  
  
"Very good Herbert, you may leave us. Be sure to tell the cooks that we will start dinner shortly."  
  
"Yes sir." And with that the Admiral's chief of staff left the room, leaving Ulysses alone with the Admiral. The Klingon didn't count, he wasn't a person anymore, not really. He was more of a pet. Ulysses shuddered inside, he had been doing that far to much since he had the unpleasant privilege to meet Tomas Chriton.  
  
"Well, well Captain Vanguard, I see that you ARE punctual." There was again a definite note of regret in his voice.  
  
"I try my best to please sir." Ulysses managed to spit out without too much trouble. Chriton merely gave a half nod.  
  
"So," the Admiral said, coming to the point, "I hear that you gained command through the time honored tradition of assassination. VERY good! I wish more officers of your generation had the balls to grab command by the horns like you did. Why, I made captain myself by assassinating my commanding officer." Ulysses didn't think that telling the aged Fleet Admiral that he had only acted in such a manner out of desperation, and that he regretted that no way else had presented itself to solve his dilemma, would do his career a bit of good. In fact, the opposite effect was a certainty. So he just gritted his teeth and nodded his agreement. What was the ancient saying Ulysses thought? Shut up and soldier?  
  
"What do you think of my view Captain? Beautiful isn't it."  
  
"Yes sir, it most certainly is." Ulysses replied, more than a little relieved at the sudden switch in topics.  
  
"I made them put in this window, so that I would have a worthy place to contemplate. But lets not sand about here in the dark! Computer: Lights!" At his command the lighting increased in the room, casting a more healthy looking yellow/white tone to everything in the room. For the first time, Ulysses noticed the flags of both the Empire and the ship's pennant standing in holders in the two corners opposite from the window. The one flag's red field was capped by the black sword and Earth emblem of the Terran Empire on a white circle in the middle. Ulysses had taken many history courses at Starfleet Academy. He knew full well the evil that had sprung a flag very similar to this one in Earth's past. Hanging beside it was the midnight blue flag with a stylized picture of the God Shiva in gold and red in the middle. The two go well together Ulysses thought, surprising a snarl forming in his throat, for what is the Empire but the destroyer of worlds.  
  
"The reason I brought you here Captain, is to gain a measure of you as a man. And I have to tell you I like what I see." The impish grin on his face grew wider, but it never seemed to reach his eyes. They remained cold, calculating pits set on the Admirals face. "You are just the man to leave in command here until the follow on force arrives."  
  
The rapid changes in topic were confusing. They must be another tactic to keep me off balance Ulysses thought. For a moment they succeeded. Then the jarred gears inside Ulysses mind began to turn.  
  
"Leave in command sir? But I thought that you would be waiting here until the other Fleet units arrive."  
  
"Bah, that's what the staff flunkies in the Admiralty want. But you and I both know that it takes more than waiting around for help to make history." Ulysses was thoroughly confused by this point. Fortunately the Admiral continued and spelled out the horrible truth for him. "It is my intention to power up the Borg device tomorrow and proceed through it to see what is on the other side."  
  
The rapid changes in topic, the irrational tendencies, they all made sense now. Fleet Admiral Tomas Chriton was quite thoroughly mad.  
  
"But sir, would it not be advisable to wait until the new Conquest Fleet was assembled before attacking? Where ever it is that the Borg went, they got their buts handed to them. According to the records, they sent over 300 Cubes and lord knows how many lesser vessels through whatever it is that that station outside creates. And only one made it back to report what had happened. Then whatever they found followed the Cube through and laid waste to every installation in this system!"  
  
"The recovered reports are fragmentary at best!" Chriton growled, then narrowed his eyes. "I thought that you of all people would understand, thought that you and I weren't too different. Perhaps I was mistaken?" More than you will ever know Admiral Ulysses thought.  
  
"Of course not sir! I only meant to warn you of the possible risks Admiral, nothing else." The hell I did. "Your plan is bold and could provide a valuable first look at the new enemy of the Terran Empire." Ulysses lied.  
  
"Fine, just don't do it again!" For the moment Chriton seemed sated. He started for the chair at the head of the long table, jerking the chain in his hands forcefully as he did so. "Come!" He commanded the Klingon at the end of the leash. The tug caught the Klingon officer by surprise, nearly making him fall over before he got up and followed the Admiral to the head of the table. The doors to the dining room opened and in streamed more officers with blood red wristbands or the gold and white of Flag Officer staff. Introductions were made, but Ulysses was functioning on auto pilot. His mind was filled with the vision of each and every ship in 24th fleet floating broken and scorched against the velvet black depths of space. 


	15. Chapter 13

- CHAPTER 13 -  
  
- Flag Officer's Dining Room, ISS Shiva -  
  
Ulysses went through his meal mechanically. It wasn't the food's fault, on the contrary it was some of the best marlin he had ever eaten. The problem was the company. To a man, each and every officer present at the dinner had agreed without question to Chriton's orders. And it was orders, not some proposed mission change to be debated. After seeing how Chriton took dissent to his plans, Ulysses could understand how they would lack initiative in voicing their concerns. It wasn't conducive to further career advancement. It also wasn't conductive to intelligent mission planning, but Chriton and his staff didn't seem to care about that. Chriton's word was law as far as his staffers were concerned, not batting an eyelash at his irrational and down right stupid command decisions.  
  
First the meal, then the after dinner drinks, seemed to take forever. He tried to talk some sense into the other officers, choosing his words with utmost care, but every time he brought up his doubts about Chriton's plan, they clamed up almost immediately. Or worse yet, they tried to bring him around to Chriton's side. Needless to say, he was soon spending much of the evening starring out the giant window of the dining room, nursing his scotch on the rocks. At least it was the real thing, not that synthehol garbage. It made the time pass smoother than it would without it, and eventually the night of hell was over.  
  
Admiral Chriton dismissed the officers and they proceeded to their own ships and quarters. The walk back to the shuttle was uneventful, as was the return trip to the Hopolite's shuttlebay. Once Ulysses was safely inside his new quarters, Hopolite's CO stateroom, he smashed his fist into the bulkhead. Smashed it HARD. And yelped in pain, jerking his bruised hand back from the wall, waving it rapidly back and forth like that would somehow ease the pain. He scowled at the offending wall, even his physical pain and momentary lapse in judgement not breaking through his anger. But it wasn't anger alone, there was a good dash of fear mixed in there as well. For after what ever was on the other side of that portal was done with 24th fleet, the first place they would come to was right here. And there would only be the Hopolite between them and the rest of the Galaxy.  
  
- Terran Empire space, near the border of what was once the Lyran Star Empire and the Mirak Star League -  
  
The Imperial patrol cruised along its standard course. The three upgraded Nova class vessels backed up by two Defiants traveled without cloak on their daily trek through space. This had been a quiet area of the Empire for two generations. Both the Lyrans and the Mirak were well under the yoke of Imperial control. Had been since their conquest by the then burgeoning infant Terran Empire. The patrol searched for the same things they always did, pirates whom wouldn't pay for the privilege, rogue Lyran and Mirak warships (uncommon though far from unheard of), and the odd cargo vessel that needed a little Imperial 'inspecting' for contraband.  
  
Captain Dorothy Chambers lounged, pouting and bored to near tears, in her command chair. Her shoulder length copper hair went along well with her new command cloak. The newly minted captain had been placed in overall command of the patrol as well. Being the daughter of one of the Imperial Council members certainly had its perks. Getting a Nova, especially an upgraded one like the ISS Ogre, as her first command was a definite sign that her star was on the rise.  
  
The Nova class was one of the newest designs of Imperial patrol vessels. It incorporated many of the plusses of both the Defiant class and the Sovereign class. It had five foreword PPC's and dual Q-torp launchers courtesy of the Defiant program. From the Sovereign program, it mounted type XII phasers with the B-upgrade (B-upgrade is an add-on that allows older style phaser arrays to rapidly remodulate their beams settings similar to Type XIV phasers), regenerative shielding, and the general styling of the vessel. It also had bioneural gel packs to speed up ships systems.  
  
Dorothy stared at the main viewer as the rocks of the asteroid belt shattered and burst apart as the Imperial patrol blew through them at 75 PSL. Cruising at full impulse through an asteroid field as dense as this always gave her an unbridled sense of power. It also gave the dull routine of the patrol a more exciting face. Although getting assigned to a Nova class ship for your fist command was a definite sign of family ties to the Imperial leadership, it also meant that you usually weren't assigned to dangerous areas until you were considerably more seasoned. It wouldn't do for all of the future ruling members of the Terran Empire to be killed by a lucky pirate or rebel.  
  
But politics bored Dorothy. The Machiavellian intrigues of the Imperial Council were nothing compared to the way she felt when she was on a starship. As she had advanced in rank, that feeling had merely grown. And when she was on a starship's command deck, she alone was the meader out of punishment and discipline. While the Council members might exercise that same power on a near galactic scale, they were always at arm's length with the actual execution of their power. That wasn't for Dorothy. She craved the visceral, spine tingling thrill that came with watching an errant crewmember writhe and scream in an agonizer.  
  
That was what made this cruise so yawn inducing. There had been nothing to punish. Everything had run incredibly smoothly, without one single hiccup in the systems to enable her to send an engineer to an agonizer. Not one wrong move on the part of her helmsman either. She was maneuvering through the latest challenge Dorothy had set for her like the Ogre was a racing shuttle, not a multi million ton starship. And the rest of the squadron was hard pressed to keep up with the flagship as well, which caused both satisfaction and dismay. Dismay because it further emphasized her helmsman's lack of errors. Satisfaction because it meant that she could rib extra hard on the other Captains for their less than stellar performance when they all got back to the starbase. That thought brought a smile to her normally dour expression. Perhaps this patrol wasn't a total waste of time then. The small squadron rushed on through the tumbling, ever changing maze of the asteroid field, completely unaware that predators with very sharp claws and teeth were stalking it.  
  
- Imperial Lyran Vessel Scarlet Fang, trailing behind the Imperial patrol -  
  
The Lyran heavy cruiser ghosted behind the enemy. It was as invisible to its prey as its crews ancient ancestors hiding in the tall grass of the savana were to theirs. Only instead of hiding downwind of its prey in a thicket of tall grass, it was cruising under cloak. Its two consorts were as well, maintaining formation by encrypted, stealthed datalink. All three ships were new build units, graciously provided by the Cartels. They mounted the latest advances in disrupter, phaser and ESG tech. The phaser arrays were about on par with Imperial Type-X's, but it was the new variable sweep Expanding Sphere Generator. Lyran commanders could now choose weather they wanted to set up a normal ESG attack or a more concentrated, longer ranged Lance attack using the same weapon.  
  
The Scarlet Fang's commander, Captain Zathran, kneaded his claws in and out of the upholstery on his command chair's arms. It was a bad habit, but he couldn't settle his jagged nerves. Here he was, a green captain with an even greener crew, about to launch the first major attack against those whom had enslaved his people. He had every right to be nervous. This battle would either be a glorious victory, or a near final defeat. This battle would tell weather the revitalized Lyran military's secret training had been enough to prepare them for the crucible of battle.  
  
The Lyran people had been through so much. First the little war against the Mirak. Then in the middle of that, the honorless Terrans launched their surprise attack. On BOTH empires! Until that moment, the only thing known about the Terrans was that they were expansionistic and aggressive. But no formal contact was made, not even a single human had ever been seen by the feline eyes of a Lyran, before they launched their attack. Weakened by their fight with each other, both domains were quickly swallowed up by the ravenous maw of the Terran Empire.  
  
Zathran thanked the gods that the conquest had been before the Terrans invented the Genesis Device. That was the main reason why both the Lyran and Mirak homeworlds remained largely as they did since time immemorial. He brown dappled coat quivered as he remembered the footage of the device being used against an enemy of the Empire. Whole ecosystems, billions of sentient life forms wiped out in seconds, replaced by the ideal environment for human populations. And, Zathran worried to himself, they may be yet used against my beloved homeworld even if our attack succeeds here today.  
  
"Captain?" His first officer asked, mild concern emanating from him into Zathran's sent receptors. The young captain realized that he had been gathering wool instead of concentrating on the mission at hand. It was much easier when you followed orders rather than gave them. Command had a way of expanding your horizons, to cause you to worry about things that were beyond your control.  
  
"Excuse me exec," Zathran replied with a sheepish, tooth hidden grin on his face, "you were saying?"  
  
"We are coming up on the intercept point sir. Our 'allies'" Commander Casmir spit the word out like a piece of spoiled meat, "should be in position now. If they can find their way here that is."  
  
"Very well. Are the weapons fully powered?"  
  
"Yes Captain, phasers, disrupters and ESG's are fully charged and ready to fire the moment we drop cloak. Boarding parties are also standing by in the transporter rooms."  
  
"Alright, you may proceed with the attack as planned." The Lyran cruisers were the hammer of this ambush. Now if only the anvil was anyone else life would be good indeed.  
  
- Mirak Star Ship Blood Oath, lying in wait in front of the Imperial patrol -  
  
It turned Captain Hobbes' stomach to be ordered to work with Lyrans. Yet that was exactly what the Patriarch had ordered the newly rebuilt Mirak Star Navy to do. The Cartels had sat both the Patriarch and the Lyran's Emperor down and made it a condition of their support. Their support was the main reason that Hobbes was on a squeaky new vessel instead of an ancient leftover from the time before the occupation. The Mirak peoples had been ground under the heels of the Terran Empire for far to long. Mirak engineers had jumped at the chance to offer up new warship designs. Hobbes current command was the end result of their efforts. It retained the classic arrow like shape of its ancient predecessors, but it was an entirely new beast. Hobbes just hoped that the new fighters and missiles worked like the tech heads said cuz it was his but on the line with a virtually untried weapons system.  
  
"It is time to show ourselves to our prey. Decloak and begin the attack! May our claws strike deep!!" An eager growl of agreement answered him, backed up by the sent of a pack on the hunt. This was good, it indicated that they were ready to face their prey at last.  
  
- ISS Ogre -  
  
The squadron had just cleared the asteroid field when all hell broke loose.  
  
"SIR, in front of us!" On the main viewer, what had been unbroken space moments before was filled with four cruiser sized ships. Their hulls were painted in brown and red, in stripes arranged like the pattern on a tiger. Their warp nacelles glowed a pale greenish blue from their perch on the rear of the ship. And all four vessels were powering up their weapons and defensive systems.  
  
"Red Alert! Order the squadron to assume combat spread, formation Chamber Alpha. Divert power to the weapons systems." On her command, the squadron's Novas assumed an arrowhead formation with the Ogre in the lead. The Defiants took up position above and below the command ship.  
  
- MSS Blood Oath -  
  
Hobbes smiled a slow smile. When faced with four cruisers dropping nearly in your lap, and you only had five destroyers, an intelligent captain would at least execute a tactical retreat to further asses the situation. This one merely rushed out to meet his attack head on. It looked like the enemy commander didn't even intend to use the considerable maneuverability of her lighter warships to their full potential. They were currently in tight, showing no signs of breaking off for independent maneuvers.  
  
He had been like this one once, brash, arrogant, and overly confident. The Mirak Star Navy had done its best to leash these traits into an effective officer, and on the hole they succeeded. But even without the expected help, Hobbes would have attacked the enemy with only his own ships. It would be a much more interesting fight if that happened, for Imperial warships, even destroyers and frigates had sharp teeth and tough hides. But what the enemy didn't know was that the four Mirak cruisers weren't the only enemy they needed to worry about. In fact, the other jaw of the trap should be swinging closed right about . now.  
  
"Sir, three Lyran cruisers decloaking behind the Imperials." There was regret mixed with anger there. Hobbes could hardly blame his tactical officer. He to was angry that Lyran's had to 'help' with his attack, and he to regretted that they had had the balls to show up.  
  
"And look at what the Imperials do now." Hobbes said, and his smile got bigger, showing the needle sharp points of his teeth in a predatory grin  
  
- ISS Ogre -  
  
"Captain, there is a new force decloaking behind us. They appear to be." there was shock in her tac officer's voice. "Sir, you're not going to believe this but they're LYRANS sir. They to are targeting us and moving in to attack." As he spoke, he put up a rear view in the lower right corner of the main viewer. In it was a sight out of the history holos. The three ships were highly similar to what Imperial historians called the XCA class. Their angular, almost feline in form, hulls were brilliant gold and crimson with their warp engines and impulse drive gave off an emerald glow. They would have been truly beautiful warships if they weren't trying to kill her.  
  
This was very bad news. If both the Lyrans AND the Mirak were jointly attacking the Empire, it meant that they had somehow managed to put aside their 200-year blood feud and work together for a change. For a second, Dorothy's thought about how this area was going to be a quiet area no longer. Then she refocused on getting her command out of the trap they had walked into. All of her ships were rear echelon patrol units, and as such it was unlikely that they would ever receive the quantum slipstream drive upgrade. She quickly glanced over the display on the right side of her command chair. The kitties had planed out this attack excellently, as the nearest subspace tunnel was on the far side of the systems enormous gas giant. That left good old-fashioned warp drive. Dorothy cursed the accountant on Terra whom had decided not to include cloaking devices on patrol ships. She could really use one now.  
  
"Helm, lay in a course 932 mark 003, warp 7!"  
  
"Course laid in." The ensign said, then she pushed the execute button on her panel. The familiar rising whine of the warp engines filled the bridge. It reached its apex, then rapidly powered down again to a stop. Staring at the viewer, instead of seeing the smeared rainbows of warp, they saw the same still stars and the approaching enemy. The helmsman pressed the button again, harder this time. Again the warp engine whine rose in pitch and stopped, and again nothing happened. The now frantic ensign punched in a series of buttons on her console. "Sir, we can't generate a warp field around the ship!" That was another useful bit of information. The kitties had somehow gotten a hold of a warp field dissipater and stuck it on their ships. It was a relatively common piece of Imperial tec, heck most Imperial ships of cruiser size and larger carried them as standard equipment. But neither the Lyrans nor the Mirak were supposed to have them, heck no one outside of the Imperial military and system police forces were supposed to have them. Of course neither the Mirak nor the Lyrans were supposed to have warships either, yet there they were.  
  
"Get a hold of Starfleet Command on subspace com."  
  
"No good sir, they're jamming all frequencies!"  
  
"Damn. Very well, if it's a fight they want, it's a fight they'll get. Order all ships to target the lead Mirak ship. We'll blow through them and make a impulse dash to the nearest subspace tunnel." That was the nice thing about a warp inhibitor, Dorothy thought, it affected all ships in its area of effect, weather they were friendly or enemy. The kitties would have to pursue us on impulse, and by the time they get turned around, we should be far enough away from them to make a run for it.  
  
"Mirak coming in range now sir! Lyrans as well!"  
  
- MSS Blood Oath -  
  
Hobbes held up his clawed hand and closed it into a fist. His tac officer pressed a single button on his panel and the fruits of the long exiled Mirak weapons engineers streamed into space.  
  
Out of massive box launchers, hundreds of missiles swarmed towards the oncoming Imperial patrol. Seconds after leaving their tubes, they jumped to extremely high impulse, pulling speeds that no ship could hope to achieve. Their internal compensator didn't need to worry about keeping biological beings alive, so the fleet little missiles charged towards the enemy at over 98 PSL. On their heels came the new fighters. They to shot ahead of there mother ships as well, if not with the mind numbing speed of the new missiles still faster than 83 PSL. They were easily the fastest crewed fighters in known space, which made them the fastest warships in known space.  
  
- ISS Ogre -  
  
If Dorothy hadn't been seated in her chair, she was certain she would have fallen to the floor. Mere missiles were coming at her, technology long since abandoned by Imperial Star Fleet as obsolete tech. But there were SO MANY! She focused on her training.  
  
"Target the missiles! Use everything, PPC's, phasers, proximity quantums, the works! And divert all available energy to forward shields." Missile signatures, unlike the insane amounts of ECM generated by photon and quantum torpedoes that prevented most PD fire from even touching them, were easily picked up. The weapons arrays on the entire squadron opened up in rapid-fire mode. Phaser arrays played from one target to the next in the closely bunched swarm, often not even stopping their fire between them, just changing the aim point on the fly. Blue flares of quantum torpedoes flashed out, bursting proximity warheads among the missiles, taking still more to oblivion. But it took time to kill so many targets, and time was what the Imperials had the least of. The missiles were not only armored, they had shield generators as well. That made them very hard to kill with PD tactics. Seeded in with the missiles were decoys, making themselves look like entire salvos of missiles all on their own, further complicating the plot and causing fire to be wasted for no loss in attacking warheads. Just the same, scores were destroyed short of the targets. But there were far to many for them all to be killed in the short engagement window, and the salvos survivors rushed on to self-immolation.  
  
- MSS Blood Oath -  
  
There was a visceral snarl on Blood Oath's bridge as the Mirak struck back at the Empire. The strong musk of fighting filled the air. It was a blow for all those whom had had their homes turned into labor camps. It was a blow for all those whom had been made into object lessons by the Imperial authorities. And most of all, it was a blow for freedom.  
  
"Reload the next salvo and fire when ready."  
  
- ILV Scarlet Fang -  
  
The view screen flared as explosions of the surviving 80 missiles walked across the Imperial formation. Lyrans had scoffed at missiles. In fact, they still scoffed at them. The ESG had been specifically designed to stop Mirak missiles, so they had every right to scoff them. But it was harder to do that now than it had been minutes before. While individually those missiles only had an individual yield of 500 Megatons, there were so many of them and they all hit at virtually the same time that they made for nasty customers. Not content to let the Mirak have all the fun, Zathran turned to his tactical officer.  
  
"You man engage when ready."  
  
"It shall be done sir."  
  
- ISS Ogre, main bridge -  
  
The ship shuddered to a virtual halt as the first volley broke over her foreword shields. The rest of the squadron was little better off. On the Ogre's bridge, sparks flew from overloaded panels and the lights flickered for a heart stopping moment before they powered up again.  
  
"Foreword shields down to 53 %. Minor hull damage, forward armor down 10 %."  
  
"Screw this, all ships, target nearest Mirak Vessel and fire!" Q-torps spat from the launchers of all five vessels.  
  
"Targets shields are down to 10 %. target shields gone, they're taking hull damage!" the Ogre's first officer shouted joyously. The Ogre rocked again as a volley of disrupters screamed in from the Mirak. They were just enough to keep the Ogre and her squadron mates' foreword shields down near 50 %, burning back their ongoing regeneration. Then the Imperials writhed again as a fresh attack came from behind.  
  
Three ESG lances speared out from the Lyran cruisers. Their shimmering amber energy fields slammed into the rear of the Nova's. Once they had drained their rear shields to around 45%, the three Lyran's volleyed their disrupter arrays and glowing green splinters of energy knifed into the Nova's draining shields. At the end of the initial attack, the Nova's had only ~ 50 % forward shields and ~ 30 % rear shields. The Defiants were slightly better off with ~ 45 % fore shields and 100% rear.  
  
"Target's weapons systems are severely damaged!" Fresh Q-torps were volleyed. As the range wound down, the squadron began to open up with PPC's and phasers as well. Orange/red beams and amber bolts of phased energy slammed into the targeted Mirak cruiser. Her shields were already down, so the fire rained on her armored hull unabated. "Target is dropping out of formation!" The Ogre's tactical officer shouted in triumph. The phaser and quantum strikes had gouged glowing, flaming craters on the Mirak's foreword hull. Lifepods and shuttles began to flee the stricken and dyeing vessel, then the computer automatically dimmed the area around it as a star bright explosion claimed the vessel.  
  
"Shift fire to the next Mirak vessel." Dorothy commanded.  
  
Then the enemy's fighters streaked in, volleying their ordinance. While shorter ranged than that of a ship, the fighter's ordinance was no less deadly. The 20 fighters launched their own version of the new missile, and it streaked in to strike before more than a handful were killed. One of the Defiants staggered out of the formation streaming debris, atmosphere and drive plasma. Its foreword shields were knocked flat, and the grid overloaded and brought down the rest, leaveing the stricken ship virtually defenseless. There was a giant whole near where its port weapons emplacement should be, and a molten fracture ran rearward from that along the darkened nacelle. The stricken Defiant boosted power to its impulse drive in an effort to courageously rejoin the formation. It didn't make it. A fresh volley of green disrupters streaked in from the Lyran vessels and turned the ship into energetic plasma.  
  
The Mirak launched a fresh salvo of missiles right into the faces of the remaining Imperials. The missiles streamed in, taking out a Nova. Its entire nacelle strut was sheared off at the root and a massive hole gaped from the engineering hull. It spun out of formation missing its starboard nacelle, all helm control lost with lights flickering as internal power failed. As it fell further and further behind the rest of the formation, it started spewing escape pods. Secondary explosions began to ripple across the ship. They rose rapidly in frequency until the entire vessel blew apart from the inside out.  
  
"Fore shields down to 10 %. Aft shields down to 46 %. Fore armor down to 13%. Aft armor down to 82 %. Hull breaches on decks 3, 4, 6, and 9. PPC 1, 2 and 3 are offline, dorsal phaser array is slightly damaged, port quantum launcher is offline. Main power failing!" the Ogre's tac officer said, then coughed on the acrid smoke that was filling the bridge. The science panel was on fire, they yellow dancing, crackling light giving the smoke filled bridge a look of hell. The internal suppression systems must be offline Dorothy thought distractedly, trying to get her mind off of the charred corpse of her helmsman. She had been burned when the EPS conduit near her station had blown, not even the fire retardant, anti ballistic fabric of her uniform was able to hold that much released energy at bay.  
  
"Return fire damn it!" she said as she jumped for the helm station while a crewman put the fire out with an old fashioned manual fire extinguisher. She had to push the scorched helm officer out of the charred chair to sit down. Helm was still partially functional, despite being scorched and half destroyed. The synthetic fabric that had sheathed the station's chair was half melted and felt crunchy under her. It gave off a noxious scent of burnt synthetic and charred flesh.  
  
Feeble next to the storm crashing in on it, the remaining Imperial vessels shot back at their attackers. They managed to take down the next Mirak's shields, but then it was over. The Mirak fighters swung back in from their latest combat maneuvers and volleyed their disrupters till their small capacitors ran dry. At the same time the Lyrans launched their next attack, flailing on the Imperials rear shields with first a lance strike, then a disrupter volley combined with a phaser strike. The remaining Defiant ceased to exist as her warp core breached. That explosion, combined with the devastating disrupter and phaser assault, broke the other Nova in half down the middle. Only the Ogre was left relatively intact. The disrupter bolts smashed into her armored rear and flank, gouging molten pits in the ablative layer and the weaker triple hull.  
  
Dorothy was thrown out of the helm station despite the tractor restraints best efforts as the Ogre was forced sideways. Without the tractor restraints, she would have been slammed into the bridge's wall hard enough to fracture her skull. She landed hard on the deck near where her helmsman had fallen. Her sightless, blackened face still smoked slightly, her tortured expression forever stuck on it. Dorothy felt her stomach somersault and she vomited onto the deck. Then she heard a whine of a transporter beam and was stunned by a low powered disruptor bolt before she even began to turn.  
  
- ISS Ogre, main engineering -  
  
"Warp core breach in three minutes." The dispassionate voice of the Ogre's main computer announced. The chief engineer wiped a grimy hand across his brow to remove sweat and blood that had collected there. A piece of exploding panel caught him on his forehead. It was a minor wound, more of an annoyance than anything else.  
  
"Come on baby, hold together just a little longer." He worked frantically on his panel, trying to solve the unsolvable. His impeccable engineering skills could do nothing. The damage was just too severe. There was only one option. "Computer, eject the warp core, authorization Vigo Delta Niner Alpha Enable."  
  
"Acknowledged, jettisoning the warp core."  
  
The reinforced armored blast door on the bottom of the secondary hull that was hoped would never have to be used slid open. Force fields sprang up around the warp core shaft at the same time. The magnetic connectors and physical couplers disengaged and the core was forced violently out of the ship on its own micro impulse drive. It managed to move far enough away before it blew that the pitted and fractured hull of the Ogre merely rocked slightly. The Ogre's chief engineer sighed in relief. Through the broken bulkheads and swirling veil of smoke, he began to search for anyone left alive in engineering.  
  
Then he heard the wine of a transporter. Without thinking, he ducked behind a still burning workstation. There laid his wife of five years, a broken bulkhead crushing her to the deck, her unseeing eyes starring into oblivion. He lost it. Jumping up, using the workstation for cover, he fired wildly at the oncoming figures in power armor. He was yelling incoherently, barely seeing his targets through his tears of rage and sorrow. A mere Type- 2 phaser wasn't much of a match against a power armor's shields and ablative outer armor layer. He played the beam across the torso of the first raider. The Lyran's personal shield hummed and glowed from the maximum powered assault. But while the chief engineer was occupied, the second raider leaped using a light burst from his AG field, closing the distance between them in a single bound. Inside the raider's gauntlets, the Lyran extended his claws. They mated with tiny recesses inside the armored fingers. That caused foot and a half long blades to extend from the end of the gauntlets. The blades were specially designed, coming to almost a single molecule along the sharpened edge, enabling them to cut through most anything. Ogre's chief engineer's face took on the look of shocked surprise as the Lyran marine drove the blades into his ribcage, lifting them slightly as the entered, the bones there providing no more resistance than his soft organs. He then removed them and allowed the human to drop to the deck. After a quick inspection of the rest of engineering using both visual and enhanced sensors his armor possessed, the raider keyed his com.  
  
"Engineering secure, proceeding to deck 14." 


	16. Chapter 14

- CHAPTER 14 -  
  
- ISS Ogre, Deck 4, Cargo Bay 1 -  
  
The ship was adrift, spinning slowly end for end in the darkness of space. Her running lights and warp engines were offline, and the Ogre was light only on one side at a time by the angry red sun deeper in system, turning her hull orange. There were great holes in the Nova class' hull, both from exterior attacks and interior secondary explosions. She was a dead ship, her warp core gone and her little remaining power from her few operational fusion reactors barely able to maintain life support. Inside the stricken vessel, Mirak and Lyran boarding parties scoured the ship, searching for valuable salvage and prisoners.  
  
The Imperial officers and crew were being herded into the cargo bay by the armored Mirak and Lyran borders. It was one of the few places on the Ogre that could nearly hold them all. Many were injured, and the ships medical staff that were still in one piece were running ragged trying to help them. Fortunately for the medical personnel, there were very few injured left. Far to many of the Ogre's wounded had been to seriously injured for even the Empire's medical technology to save. Things like that happened when a starship was nearly gutted by modern weaponry.  
  
- Deck 4, outside turboshaft 1 -  
  
Captain Dorothy Chambers shuffled down the shattered and scorched corridor of what used to be her ship. The lighting was very low, here and there the crimson red alert lights were still flashing. Here and there blackened star shaped scorch marks centered around melted portions of bulkhead showed, signs of the desperate and ultimately futile attempts of her crew to repel the boarders. The fools, did they think that it mattered now? How long could one shattered destroyer hold out against the boarding parties seven cruisers could pump out? And the boarding parties were clad in full power armor, not the lightweight riot armor of her security personnel. The column of her surviving bridge officers trudged along in front of her. Guards flanked them, numbering at least double the amount of prisoners. From their armor design and weapons, they appeared to by Lyran marines. The surviving bridge crew had been bound, then shoved down the now gravity less turboshaft to other waiting boarders below. They were then forced to march to the main cargo bay were the Imperial personnel were being held till they could be transferred.  
  
The sullen party trudged past a side hall. It ended in a mangled hole open to space. Fortunately the internal force fields were still operational on this deck, otherwise it would be virtually impossible to get them to the cargo bay. Dorothy slowed and looked down the hall that ended in space. Her quarters had been there. Now everything was gone. A disruptor rifle was shoved harshly into the small of her back, causing her to stumble and nearly fall. A series of muted hisses and growls were heard before the Lyran's external speaker spoke in synthesized standard English.  
  
"Eyes front, keep moving!"  
  
Dorothy bit back a harsh reply. She was a Captain no longer. She was no longer in command. She had become a prisoner, and prisoners that got out of line ended up dead. Gritting her teeth she limped back in line. The rest of the bridge crew didn't even turn to look at her. Dorothy's ankle had gotten twisted somewhere along the way, and she had a nasty gash on her forehead that made her woozy whenever she moved her head to fast.  
  
"Damned kitties!" She muttered under her breath. Her captor's acute hearing picked it up, merely helped along by the power armor's artificial electronic ears, and she felt another not so gentle prod from his rifle. She stumbled to one knee, then got up and staggered into the line with the rest of the prisoners, this time keeping her insults unvoiced.  
  
- ISS Ogre, Main Engineering -  
  
The Lyran marine looked up from the display he had been studying. His suits sent receptors identified the new arrivals before he even turned towards them. Mirak! The fur on the back of his neck stood up straight under his armor and a half-formed growl started in his throat. The three Mirak marines were marching towards the back of engineering, ignoring the Lyrans in the compartment as if they weren't even there. The Lyran stepped into their path. As he did so, the other two Lyran boarders that had been scavenging the Imperial vessel's engineering section came to stand beside him.  
  
"What do you want here Mirak! This section was taken by Lyran boarders. As such your kind has no claim here." Kaiten of the Red Claw Duchy growled at the advancing trio.  
  
The middle Mirak, evidently the leader of the group, turned to his companions. The sound of hissing laughter gave way to his deep voiced words. "Look at this cub! He thinks that he can stand up to us!" All three Lyran's hissed and laid their ears back. Almost of their own volition, their claws half went into the gauntlet's receptacles. The Mirak marine turned back to the three Lyrans. "Out of our way little one." He said in a patronizing tone. "We are here on official Mirak business. There is no need for us to explain ourselves to the likes of you."  
  
The three Lyrans growled deep in their throats, and the strong musk of anger began to permeate the air like a foul wind. "You stick your snout where it has no business being Mirak! Leave now and you may yet escape with your lives." The air was thick with musk now, so thick that it itched Kaiten's nose. Oh how he longed to lash out at the ancient enemies of his people. But his fealty to the Emperor made him resist his near instinctive impulses. He was an officer in the Lyran Star Empire Navy, and as such was responsible for executing the Emperor's wishes. And since the Emperor had decreed that all Blood Feuds between the Lyran and Mirak peoples on hold, Kaiten was forced to stay his hand. Once the Terran Empire was taken care of, there would be plenty of time to exact revenge.  
  
"You will move out of our way Lyran, or it shall be you that feels our claws! Comply now or die!" The Mirak's voice was patronizing no longer. It was noticeably louder and angrier. As the Mirak spoke, he dropped into a crouch, tense and waiting for the chance to strike. His two compatriots followed suit. The synthetic claws on the ends of their gauntlets extended to their full, deadly length.  
  
"If you don't leave now, it is you that shall die!" Kaiten and the other Lyran marines crouched as well, and the claws that they extended were every bit as good as those possessed by the Mirak. Part of him regretted that they were all in power armor. It would not allow him to see the Mirak's eyes when life left them. He was to far gone now for even his duty to the Emperor to reign in his bloodlust. All he could see was the latest incarnation a century old foe. Inside his battle helmet, his whiskers quivered, expressing their eagerness to scream and leap on the enemy. His rough tongue lapped over his black nose, trying to clear away some of the now oppressive anger musk. Kaiten wanted all his senses as acute as possible in the coming duel. But it was not to be. Even as he crouched, his com beeped. For a moment he ignored it. Then it beeped again, more insistently. At almost exactly the same time, the Mirak's com beeped as well. Both responded, training overcoming instinct, yet neither relaxing a muscle nor moving from their combat crouches.  
  
"Kaiten here, what do you want!" His voice was gruff.  
  
"This is the flagship, you are to return immediately. Long range sensors have detected another Imperial patrol. And if we can see them, they can see us."  
  
"Understood, you may initiate transport at your convenience." Now Kaiten was annoyed. From the few snippets of Mirak he had overheard, the other three had just received similar commands. He stared at the armored figure, silted feline eyes narrowed in anger behind his armored helmet. "It would appear that we have no time to continue presently. But now this Mirak, we shall not forget this day!"  
  
"Nor shall we little cub, nor shall we!" And then the transporter effect took both parties to their respective ships. Vengeance would have to wait.  
  
- ISS Ogre, Cargo Bay 1 -  
  
Dorothy was herded into the center of the room along with most of her senior officers by the Lyran guards. As she stood there, the disconcerting grip of a transporter gripped her. The familiar sights and smells of her ship were replaced by something utterly alien. The Lyran vessel's interior was much like its exterior. The bulkheads were made up of the same golden alloy and lighting was provided by yellowish green lights. The signage that she could see through the forcefield of her cell was done in blood red, knifelike alien script. Lyran marines lounged in the room beyond the cell. There was a quiet hum growing louder in volume, then it leveled off and nearly became lost in the background noise of an active starship.  
  
Must have gone to warp Dorothy thought. The sound was very similar to what her ship had made when it jumped to FTL speeds. She slouched down against the wall of her cell, putting her injured leg out in front of her. Massaging the twisted ankle seemed to help it a bit, but the dull ache remained. Her hand ran across the now crusted over gash on her forehead. She winced when her fingers made contact but continued to explore the wound with her manacled hands. It wasn't that deep, or at least didn't seem so to her inexperienced touch. Already it was expanding to a pretty good-sized goose egg though. Her physical examination through, Dorothy's thoughts drifted towards her future. What exactly were the kitties planing on doing with her?  
  
- Near the edge of the Milky Way Galaxy, along the Gamma/Delta Quadrant border -  
  
It had been nearly 90 years since the entire Interstellar Concordium had packed up everything that could move and traveled to the very fringe of the galaxy. After their stunning and disastrous defeat at the hands of the Terran Empire, the ISC had at first not known what to do. The various member species of the ISC had even begun to bicker among themselves as to the appropriate course of action to take. Some had nearly resorted to civil war before a solution was proposed.  
  
The Veltressai had put their many lobed brains together and had come up with a workable solution. But although it was workable, it was also hard to swallow. They proposed that the ISC abandon everything they had worked so long and hard to create. If it had come from any other species but the highly respected Veltressai, it would have been dismissed out of hand. But because it DID come from the Veltressai, the Council of Five was forced to analyze their proposal. After much deliberation, the found that they had to agree with the Veltressai. After loosing most of their space fleet in the disastrous Pacification Campaign against the Terran Empire, it was the only viable option to save the ISC from the expected counterassault.  
  
So it was that all 1500 settled worlds and over 60 sentient species packed up and moved everything they had lock stock and barrel to the galactic fringe. There, in secrecy, they rebuilt their infrastructure and set about making new ships to fight the Terran Empire and finally bring peace, order and good government to the peoples of the TE. The ISC may have lost the first battle, but they were damned well going to win the war.  
  
- Interstellar Concordium Vessel Peace Envoy, on patrol near the edge of ISC space -  
  
The amphibian Meskeen sat comfortably in his chair, the small fans that blew moisture rich air on him running nearly silently along with the regular background noise of a working starship. The patrol was going smoothly, there had been nothing abnormal on the sensors. He hadn't even been born when the Interstellar Concordium had launched its pacification campaign into what was known as the Terran Empire. Yet from almost the moment of his birth he had known that he was destined to help return the ISC to greatness. Well, perhaps from birth was a bit of an exaggeration, but not much of one. It was that drive that made him join the ISC Navy. The new patrol frigate that he captained was a true marvel of modern construction. It carried powerful phaser arrays, high-speed plasma torpedoes and the latest incarnation of the Plasmatic Pulsar Device.  
  
The newest PPD was one of the longest ranged weapons known, capable of delivering intensely focused plasma energy pulses across previously unheard- of distances. While not as good at knife fight range, it was a truly fearsome weapon of war. And it also had an excellent new feature that previous incarnations never had. It was enveloping. Instead of the carrier wave concentrating on a narrow part of an enemy vessel, it could be widened to envelop the entire target. This allowed the plasma to strike not only the facing side of the vessel, but the flanks, top and bottom of it as well. Although it didn't do as much damage to the adjoining sides of the target as a direct blast would have, it was a valuable enhancement to an already deadly weapon.  
  
The high-speed plasma torpedoes were a nice addition to the ISC's arsenal as well. Traveling faster than the TE's photon torpedoes, they delivered a powerful blow. And the plasma degradation problem of old style plasma torps had been fixed in the new type, allowing for the full charge to be delivered across the entire range of the weapon, which was only slightly less than the PPD's. It also mounted powerful shields and armor, enabling it to withstand the firepower of most normal cruisers. The systems that had been trial run in the Peace Envoy were now being modified for use in all refits and new ship construction. All in all, the Peace Envoy was a tough little ship. And her captain was itching for the chance to strike back at the enemy that had forced the ISC from its home space.  
  
"Captain, I am detecting a disturbance in sector 9552. It is congruent with a subspace tunnel preparing to open into normal space." The Peace Envoy's science officer said, her green skin near blue with the light cast from her panel. Her typical Meskeen voice's high pitch and slightly nasal quality caused the rest of the bridge crew to focus on their instruments, searching for the first sign of the incoming vessels.  
  
"We aren't expecting any company. I wonder whom it could be? Cloak the ship and go to yellow alert just to be safe. I want full passive scans of any ships that come out of that tunnel."  
  
"Sir, judging from the size of the opening, it is going to be a large transit. Quite large in fact." As the Q'Nabbian engineer spoke, all attention was diverted to the main viewer.  
  
Where there had been normal space moments before, a tear formed spilling the angry orange light of a subspace tunnel into normal space Just as the Peace Envoy cloaked, the first ships began to appear. They were small, beetle looking ships, but the came in a steady torrent.  
  
"Look at the number of them!" The Peace Envoy's science officer said. "They blot out the very stars!"  
  
And then the first of the bigger ships began to appear. They were similar enough in styling to the smaller ships that you could tell that they were built by the same species. But any similarity ended there. These ships were massive leviathans, easily the size of the ISC's biggest class, the Peacemaker. The captain looked down at his readouts. Unlike the smaller ships, those behemoths were well armed and armored. Where the smaller ships had only a single beam weapon, those ships mounted over 30, and they had torpedo emplacements as well. Their nacelles cast an eerie pinkish purple glow on their violet/silvery hulls.  
  
"Contact High Command on the covert channel. They must be informed of this development!" The captain said. Then he turned back to the view screen. Steady as a metronome, the alien vessels continued to pour out of the subspace tunnel like a swarm of locusts. 


	17. Chapter 15

- CHAPTER 15 -  
  
- ISCV Peace Envoy, 2 days later -  
  
The Peace Envoy was about to become the embodiment of its name. Because it had been his ship that had first detected the alien armada, it was his responsibility to start negotiations with the new species. At least that was what High Command had said. They honored him greatly, for it wasn't every day that a powerful species was encountered. It was the ISC's mandate to bring order and peace to the galaxy, so if these new aliens could be persuaded to live in harmony with the Concordium then so much the better. If however they proved unreasonably hostile to the Concordium's overtures, like the Terran Empire had, then the Pacification Fleet was ready to strike at them rapidly. But with such a strong enemy fleet, the Pacification Fleet, although it would inevitably win, would suffer serious casualties if the attack had to happen.  
  
The new aliens had descended on the asteroid belt and metal rich planets of this insignificant system and began processing the gathered materials in their mammoth ships. Vast tracts of the dense asteroid belt were already devoid of even the smallest pebble, the section vacuumed clean in the alien's thirst for raw materials. The entire process was highly efficient and already there were numerous new small craft added to the already substantial number present.  
  
After two strenuous days of stealthy scouting around the alien fleet's perimeter, the Peace Envoy swung towards the heart of the formation. It wouldn't take the unknown aliens long to pick them up. Even while cloaked, the Peace Envoy had proven at least a fleeting target to the alien's sensors. Their patrols had altered course on several occasions in order to execute high intensity scans of the area where the Peace Envoy had just been. It was both a good will gesture and a desire not to overly alarm the new aliens that the Peace Envoy dropped its cloak. Nearly immediately swarms of light units erupted from their mammoth motherships and vectored in on the lone ISC Frigate's position. As a further gesture of good faith, the Peace Envoy's weapons and shields were powered down. As the range closed, the Meskeen captain ordered a com channel opened.  
  
- Dominion command battleship Founders Wisdom  
  
"Founder, the unknown cruiser is hailing us." The Vorta Weyoun said to the smoothed-faced changeling standing near the middle of the massive battleships command deck. "What is to be our response?"  
  
"Open the channel, but keep it targeted. If they try anything be prepared to attack immediately."  
  
"Of course Founder." Weyoun made a small bow then issued the necessary commands to the Jem'Hadar officers.  
  
Seconds later the eyepiece the Founder wore showed the smooth green skin of a Meskeen. His skin glistened with the light sheen of moisture amphibians needed to survive. His black eyes sat in large bulges on either side of his head, much like a Terran frog. The voice that came through the Founder's ear bug was high pitched and slightly nasal.  
  
"I greet you on behalf of the Interstellar Concordium and welcome you to our space. It is the Concordium's hope that all sentient life can live in harmony with each other."  
  
"Fine words, but we place little stock in the words of solids. Just the same, if we have trespassed on your territory, I apologize. There was no activity within this system, so we assumed that it was unclaimed. We shall depart now." Gone was the time when the Dominion took what it wanted. Even with this powerful concentration of ships, the Dominion couldn't afford to lose them needlessly, especially the larger vessels. They couldn't be replaced nearly as readily as the standard Jem'Hadar attack craft could.  
  
With no worlds left for it to use, it had been forced to continue a sorry existence on board the surviving super carriers and battleships of the Jem'Hadar fleet. There were only a few Founders left. Most of those that survived had been off world when the Terran Empire had launched its surprise attack on the Founder Homeworld. Survived that is if you called having to go on living without the Great Link surviving.  
  
- ISCV Peace Envoy, main bridge -  
  
The Meskeen captain saw opportunity for greatness slipping away from him. The female alien in the orange clothing appeared ready to terminate communication. He had to do something to make her stay in communication longer.  
  
"Wait. It is not my place to pry into your affairs, but how is it that you came to voyage between the stars with no planet to call your own?" Anger flashed on the normally deadpan features of the Founder. The captain didn't know weather that was a good or bad sign, but it did keep the new alien on the com.  
  
"Your right! It is none of your business. I suggest that you leave before we choose to use your ship for target practice! But before I end this communication, I shall give you one piece of advice as a reward for your boldness. If you ever encounter a species known as the Terrans, strike them first and strike hard because you shall otherwise end up like us or worse." Why the Founder decided to warn this nosy species about the Terran Empire escaped her. Perhaps it was because she so deplored the sate the Dominion had been turned into at their hands. Perhaps she was getting sentimental about solids in her old age. But the why didn't matter, the fact that she had named the Terrans was all the Meskeen needed. At the mention of the name, the entire bridge crew tensed.  
  
"Excuse me but did you say Terrans? As in the Terran Empire?"  
  
"Yes. Why? Have you heard of them already?" Out of the camera's pickup the founder began to enter a series of commands into the console. Could she have tipped off one of the Terran's subject species? If that proved the case, she would have to destroy this alien cruiser as quickly as possible.  
  
"As a matter of fact, the Terran Empire is the reason we are here on the fringe of the galaxy. They drove us from our homes long ago. We resettled here in an attempt to rebuild our power base so that when we eventually encountered them again, we could properly defend ourselves."  
  
Was this a solid ruse to entrap the few remaining Dominion forces or was it the truth the founder thought to herself? "I shall require access to your ships database to verify your claims, but if what you say proves true, I may have a proposition for your superiors. The Terran Empire did much the same thing to us relatively recently. If we were to combine our forces, perhaps we could pose an even greater threat to the Terran Empire than either of us would be on our own." After so long in sorrow, the universe had decided to allow a faint ray of hope to shine on the Dominion.  
  
- ISS Hopolite, main bridge, that same time -  
  
On the view screen the massive Borg complex began to glow, an eerie green showing through the lattice work of metal conduits and walkways. Slowly at first but with increasing speed the stars in the center of the Borg construct began to churn. Tendrils of sickly greenish yellow flowed out of the swirling middle. By all indications recovered in the Borg records everything was going exactly like it was supposed to.  
  
Ulysses slouched in his chair, his face a mask showing none of the turmoil that was boiling inside him. The feeling of dread that he had been having since Chriton first said that he was going to use the Borg device was stronger than ever. But there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.  
  
"Gravimetric readings are spiking off the chart sir! Radiation levels have risen noticeably but are within acceptable levels."  
  
"Thank you Mr. Sarkis," Ulysses said to the Hopolite's new chief Science Officer. "Can you interpret what the Borg device is creating?"  
  
"It seems to defy classification sir. It is most similar to a wormhole, yet at the same time it doesn't have any of the usual markers for one. I'm sorry sir, that's the best I can do." He actually sounded sorry, which was an indication of just how much better Ulysses system of command was than the normal Fleet style. On most vessels, the only thing the science officer would have been sorry of would have been having to do extra work.  
  
"I understand." Ulysses nodded his thanks.  
  
"And there they go." P'tel said from the chair to his right.  
  
Ulysses turned his eyes back to the view screen. As he watched the ships of 24th fleet began to disappear into the gaping yellow green maw of the artificial Borg wormhole. The crazy fool, Ulysses thought, he's sending his entire fleet through at once, not even bothering to scout the other end first.  
  
"As soon as the last ship of 24th fleet is though, I want Starfleet HQ raised on subspace. I'll take the call in my ready room." Chriton had insisted on a com blackout, most likely to prevent HQ from learning of his foolhardy plans and putting a stop to them. He may be insane and had evidently lost even the limited tactical sense he had once possessed, but he still knew how to play the system to get what he wanted. Orders that HQ didn't know about were ones that couldn't be countermanded. As he watched the first of 24th fleets cap ships disappeared into the artificial wormhole, all Ulysses could do was sit and stew over the sheer stupidity of it.  
  
-The new enemy had reactivated the portal that the first enemy had used to enter the Race's space. And like the first enemy, they sent a fleet of vessels through. But unlike the first enemy, these used much smaller ships. So much the better, for they would be that much easier to kill once they were engaged by the Race's fleet. It appeared that the only ship that was going to stay behind was the first one that had entered the system after it had been scoured clean of the first enemies. This was good because it should prove no match for the Race's picket cruiser. As the last of the enemy fleet disappeared into the portal, the picket cruiser powered up its systems from extreme low power to EMCON stealth status and began to stalk the lone unaware enemy left in rear guard. - 


	18. Chapter 16

- CHAPTER 16 -  
  
- San Francisco, Terra, Capital of the Terran Empire -  
  
The massive building stood tall, a shining cylinder that was the seat of the most powerful body in the entire galaxy. Many of its levels were offices for various sector council members when they were on Terra, but more than a few were devoted to museums containing pillaged relics from the Terran Empire's various subject species. Deep below it was Section 31's official primary head quarters. The covert organization had moved into the forefront of the Terran Empire's intelligence and internal security divisions. Their complex was a rabbit warren of offices, R&D facilities, interrogation rooms and emergency bunkers.  
  
The vast circular room that topped the Council Tower was designed much like a roman amphitheater. There were concentric rings of seats that got higher the farther you got from the central podium. Its walls were vast stretches of one-way permeable glass. They allowed light to pass through from the outside as if it was normal glass, yet to an observer on the outside the walls appeared to be mirrors, showing nothing, not even to normal sensors, of the happenings inside the council chambers. The red black and white banner of the Empire hung on the clear walls on the four cardinal directions above the four entrances into the room. The massive unbroken dome of glass was 4 stories at the outside edge and over 8 in the middle of the massive room. The council chamber capped the tallest tower in San Francisco. It was 75 stories taller than any other tower in the old city, making it appear all the more imposing and massive.  
  
It was late evening, with a light fog rolling in under the Golden Gate Bridge, here and there a shuttle pod or aerocar darted in and out of the advancing fog, but none dared go anywhere near the Council Tower. Three was a 15 km prohibited zone from ground level to space that was strictly enforced. If you strayed into that perimeter, the massive Type XII planetary phaser banks that ringed the tower would fry your craft, no questions asked. Every once and a while some fool either tried to attack the building or had an actual accident and strayed into the prohibited zone. No vessel had ever made it farther than a few meters inside the perimeter. No warnings were issued, no second chances granted. The trespassing vessel was incinerated no matter what the circumstances. The building itself also had its own defenses. Ablative armor generators had been installed and the armor could be employed within seconds. There were also shield generators installed in the massive building, every bit as powerful as those on the newest Starfleet Super Dreadnought.  
  
Inside the brightly lit Council Chambers a massive argument was underway. The hundreds of council members were all trying to speak at once, shouting amplified arguments back and forth across the room. This had been going on for close to a minute now, and Greg Betare, Chairman of the Terran Empire had had enough. With the press of a button on his daisies, all microphones in the entire room died save his own. There was a sharp drop in the noise level of the argument, but not in the volume of insults and accusations being flung. There were even a few Vulcan delegates joining in with their more emotional human counter parts. The five Hydran delegates were basically the only beings in the chamber that weren't standing and shouting. Encased in their environmental suits because they needed to breathe methane, they were no doubt doing the Hydran equivalent of laughing at the antics of their Human and Vulcan overlords  
  
"ENOUGH!" Betare bellowed, the force and volume of his voice causing the room to go silent. It wasn't every day that you got him angry. His temper was very slow to surface, but when it did it erupted spectacularly. It was loose now, you could see it in his hazel eyes under his salt and pepper hair. "You will all sit down immediately or you shall spend an hour in an agonizer so that you all learn some manners! Is that understood?!?" After a few more cat calls and angered stares, the assembled council delegates eventually sat down. "Thank you, now I believe that Delegate Chambers had the floor."  
  
"Thank you Chairman. As I was saying, I have reason to believe that the subject races of the Empire are preparing to revolt." As he had before, Jack Chambers was cut off by a massive roar of protest by those whom felt differently than he did. That in turn set off the much less numerous delegates that believed as Chambers did. Chambers' main supporters were mostly delegates from the areas of the Empire where the pending revolt was more obvious, while their more populous detractors were from areas where nothing bad had happened for decades. Jack ran a hand through his rapidly receding chestnut hair. He had worried that his warning would fall on deaf ears, and his concerns had proven true even more spectacularly than his worst imagined fears. The core worlds were so secure, and had been for so long, that they thought the rest of the Galaxy was just like their small little parts. They refused to even consider that the long conquered Klingons, Romulans, Lyrans, Mirak, and Gorn would even dare, let alone be able to succeed in a revolt on the Terran Empire.  
  
For the second time in as many seconds, Chairman Betare lost his temper. Twisting a control on his central podium, he increased the gravity in the room to 4Gs. Nearly all of the shouting delegates had been standing. They were unprepared for the sudden increase in gravity and the logical conclusion of such an increase happened. Betare lowered the gravity down to the standard 1G. Amidst the muttered curses and cries of protest the delegates picked themselves up off of the ground and seated themselves back in their chairs. But the tactic did have its desired effect, for the assembly soon quieted down and remained largely so for the rest of the meeting. Betare waved for Chambers to continue.  
  
"As I was saying, It is my belief that the subject races are planning a revolt." Only a few muted catcalls interrupted him this time, so he continued. "For proof all you need to do is look at the stats for increased raids and Fleet ship disappearances. In the last few months, guerrilla attacks have increased ten-fold on all fronts. Not just that, but on all fronts simultaneously! And look at the rash of unexplained ship disappearances. In just the last week alone we have lost over 10 ships, including three Galaxy class vessels."  
  
"But you knew that this was likely to happen Jack." Betare said to his old friend. "Intel said as much after the end of the Borg war. Once it became common knowledge that our fleets had been ground down to such an extent as they were, all the little terrorists and rebels would come out of the woodwork. They know as well as we do that they would never have such an excellent opportunity to strike us a blow. Granted even Intel didn't think that they could strike us as hard as they have, but our losses are far from crippling. And once the new ships come fully online we shall not only attack our newly discovered foe, we shall crush these guerrillas and terrorists once and for all."  
  
"But." There was hurt mingled with anger in Chambers' green eyes as his friend cut his protests off.  
  
"But nothing!" Betare closed all argument off forcefully. "I have given you leeway because your daughter was one of those lost in the recent skirmishes, but I will not allow you to disrupt this meeting further. I declare a recess till 10:00 AM tomorrow. Hopefully we can get more done in that session than today's." A few delegates, mostly Chambers' supporters, protested the recess, but for the most part the rest of the Council was more than happy to escape the hostile environment of the room.  
  
- Council Tower, 120th Floor, Garden Level, 20 minutes later -  
  
Betare made his way down the winding cobble stone path, breathing in the scent of wildflowers and greenery. The faint, soothing sound of falling water could be heard as the sprinklers watered the wild assortment of plants and trees in the garden. The carefully aimed water drops never landed on the walkway, enabling visitors to walk through without getting their expensive clothing wet. The serpentine pathway went deeper into the thick foliage, towards the heart of the floor. Betare followed the path till it emerged into the clearing in the middle of the garden. Seated there, just as he expected him to be, was Jack Chambers. There was a sour expression on his face, just as Betare had expected as well. When he approached his old friend, Jack turned and looked at him. His eyes were red and puffy, as if he had been crying.  
  
"Listen Jack, about what happened today in Council."  
  
"Spare me your platitudes! You made your position quite clear!" There was a lot of anger in his voice, but it was mostly to cover up the anguish that resided just beneath the surface. First he lost his only child, then his best and oldest friend takes the side of the mob instead of standing with him.  
  
"But what you are proposing is preposterous!" Greg said in an exasperated tone. "Do you truly believe that the subject species are even remotely capable of overthrowing us?"  
  
"You were there when that El-Aurian fortune teller gave us the future of the Empire. You know as well as I do how she said it would end."  
  
"You actually believed her?" Greg laughed. "What would ever posses you to do that!? No one can tell the future Jack. Heck not even the Vulcans, for all their telepathic ability, can do that!"  
  
"You must have at least partially believed her, because you approved my plan to have all El-Aurians exterminated!"  
  
"I did that because their beliefs were disruptive to the effective governing of the Empire. Just look at how they sucked you in! Now imagine if that same belief was allowed to spread across the Empire. It would be chaos!"  
  
"I was not sucked in!" Jack spat out. Greg looked at him incredulously and shook his head. Jack pressed on, vainly trying to convince him that what they had both seen and heard had been true. "They could see the future, just like you or I could speak, they could see it. We are at the end of the Empire and we are doing nothing to stop what is coming."  
  
"Tell you what, why don't you sit out the next council session? You are obviously still distraught over the loss of your daughter." Greg placed a friendly hand on Jack's shoulder. Jack jerked his shoulder away as if scalded and strode determinedly away from Greg Betare, leaving him alone in the middle of the garden. 


	19. Chapter 17

- CHAPTER 17 -  
  
- ISS Hopolite, Captain's Ready Room -  
  
Ulysses stared out the room's lone window into the empty vastness of space beyond. Of the vast armada that had inhabited the system only minutes before, only the Hopolite remained. It was the lone sentinel left on duty till the real invasion force arrived. But Admiral Chriton had become fixated with wining glory for himself that he was blind to the tactical realties of the situation. The Empire had no clue as to what laid on the other side of the artificial Borg wormhole, only that it was particularly nasty and ate Borg Cubes for breakfast.  
  
"Wendell to Captain Vanguard." The Hopolite's chief communications officer's voice filled the small room.  
  
"Vanguard here." Ulysses said after he tapped his combadge.  
  
"I have Starfleet Command on subspace com as ordered sir."  
  
"Route it in here."  
  
"Aye sir."  
  
"What is so hellfire important Captain? Do you have any idea what time it is here?!" The heavyset flag officer said with an irritated tone. He looked like he had been woken from a sound sleep to answer the com. His white and gold uniform was slightly rumpled, as if it had been hastily thrown on. To tell the truth Ulysses hadn't taken into account what the hour would be at San Francisco, and mentally kicked himself for not doing so. Yet it couldn't be helped now and Command needed the information he possessed. Luckily at least the aides and junior officers that inhabited Starfleet Commands rabbit warren offices and departments were still on duty. Heck, the poor souls never seemed to sleep at all! Wendell must have convinced one of them that what Ulysses had to say was important enough to disturb their superior's beauty sleep.  
  
"I do know what time it is Sir," he lied, "but the information I must pass on cannot wait. I apologize for waking you sir but someone in charge must be informed of this."  
  
"Well spit it out then and well see just how vitally important this information is." The Admiral growled. His tone and body language showed that it had better be DAMNED important or there would be hell to pay. Ulysses swallowed his fear and explained just what Admiral Chriton had done. As Admiral listened to Ulysses, his face gradually went from being sour to horrified shock. He remained that way for a few seconds after Ulysses finished talking. Realizing that he was looking like a fool, the Admiral put up an aggressive front to cover up his jangled nerves.  
  
"Alright Captain, the matter shall be dealt with rapidly!" As he spoke he reached to cut the communication. Speaking more to himself than to Ulysses, his last words were transmitted just before the signal cut out. "Damned senile old fool." Then the transmission was terminated and Ulysses was left to stare at the blank com screen and hope for the best.  
  
- Flag Conference Room, ISS Athena, 2nd Fleet Flagship, Enroute to former Borg system A875 34B9 -  
  
Fleet Admiral T'var's ice blue eyes looked over her revised orders again, as if that would change their message. Apparently that old fool Chriton had taken 24th Fleet in its entirety through the Borg portal instead of following his orders and waiting for 2nd Fleet to reinforce him. At least the Captain left as a rear guard had possessed enough intelligence to pass the word up the chain of command. It was because of that Captain's quick thinking that she now had new orders. Where 2nd Fleet had been cruising towards the rendezvous, it was now to proceed at maximum speed in an effort to catch up with 24th Fleet and she was to relieve Chriton of duty upon successful intercept.  
  
- Main Bridge, ISS Athena -  
  
The duty officer pushed the accept button on his terminal, and Admiral T'var's face appeared on it. Her chestnut hair was cut in typical Vulcan style, accenting her ears, and voice spoke with the experience and command garnered from years in Starfleet.  
  
"New orders for the fleet Cmdr. They are to increase to flank speed and proceed on course for the original rendezvous coordinates." Despite the normal Vulcan neutral expression, there was a faint hint of a frown on the corners of her mouth.  
  
"Acknowledged Admiral. The new orders shall be transmitted immediately."  
  
Once the orders had been transmitted throughout the vast armada of ships that made up 2nd Fleet, the Quantum Slipstream tunnel that they had been leisurely cursing in began to accelerate faster and faster past the Imperial vessels.  
  
- 24th Fleet, on the other side of the artificial wormhole -  
  
The armada of vessels had taken some time to sort itself out after coming out of the wormhole. The end point was mildly unstable and had spat out the Imperial vessels across a quarter of the system. But that wasn't the strange part. What was really strange was the nature of the space they had been dumped into. Instead of the barren vastness of normal space light by the solar furnaces of stars and galaxies, this place was filled with a luminescent organic fluid. The entire area as far out as 24th Fleets sensors could reach was filled with the odd matter. There were normal planets and stars that long-range sensors detected, but other than that this place was entirely alien. The crews stared out windows and at video feeds from external cameras at the eerie, even spooky, green tinged space that enveloped the fleet. The Imperials were not generally a superstitious lot, but many of them were getting bad feelings about Chriton's crusade, now that they realized just how alien their destination was. But there was nothing to do about it now. The fleet powered up their impulse drives and laid in a course for the nearest planet. The fluid that permeated this place swirled off of their hulls and nacelle pylons, creating large vortices in the fleets wake.  
  
Chriton himself was all smiles as he sat in his command chair. He was oblivious to the abrupt 180 degree turn in his underlings emotions, nor would he have cared in the slightest even if he wasn't oblivious. He was in his element now, stalking an enemy, assured of glory and honor. His cold blue eyes took on a maniacal gleam and his wrinkled hands gripped the padded arms of his chair in eager anticipation. Chriton's ever-present living trophy crouched beside him, the silver chain running from his neck to a clasp on the command chair. 24th Fleet's second in command approached him, worry etching lines on his face as he tried to hide a frown.  
  
"Admiral, perhaps we should cloak the fleet?" Commodore Obed queried from the left of Chriton's seat.  
  
"What need is there for that? Are we scared little pansies that have to sneak around in the shadows? HELL NO!!" His smile was replaced with stunning rapidity by a venomous glare and snarl. "The Terran Empire hides from no one, do you hear me? NO ONE! We shall crush this new enemy as easily as we crushed all the others! Don't bother me again with such trifling concerns!"  
  
Obed could only bow and back away from the Admiral. Perhaps that Captain Vanguard was correct. but that was silly wasn't it? Why would Command leave an incompetent in command of a fleet? No, it must be that Admiral Chriton had access to information the rest of the command staff didn't. He was no madman, he was just a commander assured of an easy victory. Obed clamped down on the niggling doubt that rose inside him, pushing it out of the way and locking it up tight. Chriton knew what he was doing, anything else was either a fiction or a fault of his own. It was that dammed Captain Vanguard. If he hadn't planted those seeds of doubt in his mind, there wouldn't be any problem with following Chriton's orders. Obed returned to his duties, having convinced himself that Chriton knew what he was doing. Despite his self-assurances, he went into his work like a man fleeing from the devil.  
  
-The Enemy had again come through the artificial portal. When they had first come, the Race had been unprepared, but that was no longer the case. Where there had been little need for warships before the Enemies had come the first time, but they were plentiful now. The species on the other side of that mysterious portal were now a known entity, and one that had proven unreasonably hostile. That hostility had earned them a speedy removal from the Race's space once the originally small battle fleet was assembled. After the portal to the mysterious space beyond had closed, the Race had hoped that it would never again have to fight for its home. But alas that was not to be. It was of no great consequence, for the race had learned much of the largely lost arts of fighting during the long break in contact with the hostile Enemies. These would fare even worse than the first Enemies had.  
  
The first wing of the Fleet was assembled and it sped off to lie in wait in the evident target of the Enemy. It was a mere colony world, but this small group of Enemy vessels would die just like the ones that came before them. -  
  
- ISS Hopolite, that same time -  
  
P'tel sat in the central chair on the bridge. Although her studies in the teachings of Spock were progressing, she hadn't realized just how demanding they would be. They did fill a void in her that she had been barely aware of before she started, but the path he had laid down for her was considerably harder than anything else in her life had ever been. Of course she was changing the basic way in which she had lived her entire 105 years so there was bound to be some conflict as ingrained habits were forced out.  
  
She was also surprised at how well she and Ulysses got along. He was most certainly not like most humans she had encountered in her long years in Starfleet. Ulysses was more understanding and forgiving than your average Terran, but she had seen that he could be pushed into violent action if it was the only course available. Just the same, he didn't enjoy the violence as far to many of his species seemed to.  
  
Even now, after all that had transpired between them, he was still able to shield his thoughts from her. She found this both fascinating and irritating at the same time. P'tel was a fairly powerful telepath, yet she couldn't even dent his defenses. She wondered what the Starfleet recruiters had thought of his powerful psychic barriers. More than that, she wondered just how a being with El-Aurian DNA was able to even enter Starfleet. P'tel made a mental note to ask him about it during their next session.  
  
- ISS Hopolite, Captain's Ready Room, that same time -  
  
Ulysses was reading through the daily reports that seemed to come from nearly every officer and crewman on the Hopolite. He had thought that the paperwork that a second officer had to wade through had been bad enough, but this was several orders of magnitude worse. He took another sip of the hot apple cider in his mug as he keyed the page advance.  
  
The mug slipped from his hand, dropping to smash on the edge of his desk spilling its still half full potion of cider out and onto the floor and desktop. But Ulysses was oblivious to this. If there was anyone else in the room they would have seen his face contort into a mask of sheer terror. Ulysses hands sprang to either side of his face. Inside his head, a vision of a completely alien being flooded the pathways of his brain. The image came unbidden and rampaged even through Ulysses formidable defenses like a deranged animal. The creature was charging forward, closing the distance to the viewer in Ulysses mind's eye. In seconds the creature was upon the viewer and its claws slashed across the field of vision. Then the vision faded to black and one sentence was heard in the background.  
  
"The Weak Shall Perish!"  
  
Ulysses jerked as if coming out of a violent nightmare. The only problem was this was no dream, of that he was certain. He leapt from his chair and bolted for the bridge doors.  
  
"Red Alert! Get the shields up NOW!"  
  
"Captain?" Lt. Cmdr. Percy Davenport said with a confused look on his face.  
  
"Hurry damn it!"  
  
P'tel cast a concerned glance at him, but if he was right there wasn't time to spare to explain things.  
  
"Aye sir, shields up, going to red alert." Percy and his first deputy, Lt. Gabe Eton exchanged a look, then began to carryout the Captains orders. The mournful wail of the Red Alert klaxon began to cry out throughout the ship, and the flashing red panels and alert lights began their designed function.  
  
"Helm, take us to full impulse!"  
  
"Aye sir, going to full impulse now."  
  
The fleet Aegean class destroyer leapt from its stationary position to motion in mere seconds. It was a good thing that it had, for a beam of energy lanced through the area that it had just vacated, passing less than a meter behind the extended secondary hull's endpoint..  
  
"Sir, sensors are now detecting a vessel to port! She has fired at us but missed and is closing fast!" Eton cried  
  
-Mere seconds away from its destruction, the Enemy vessel had brought its defensive systems fully online and had jumped foreword just enough so that what should have been a death stroke passed harmlessly behind the now fleeing vessel. It was an annoyance, but in the end it would only prolong the engagement. All scans of the new Enemy vessel indicated that is was significantly inferior to the massive cubic vessels that the first Enemy had used. The cruiser altered its flight path and increased power to full. Now that the Enemy was alerted to the Race's presence, there was no need to continue under stealth. Masking systems stopped their activity as power was redirected via the pilot's telepathic bond with his ship to defensive and offensive systems. What had been a slight distortion of the background starfield solidified into a craft unlike any ever encountered by the Terran Empire. It was black and yellow in color and was shaped like a winged spindle. -  
  
"She's firing again! BRACE FOR IMPACT!"  
  
"Helm, engage Slip Drive, any course, any head." Ulysses never finished his command. It was cut off as the ship bucked and then began a high-speed spin to port.  
  
The alien craft had once again fired its beam weapon, and its power was revealed to deadly effect. It struck the extended aft end of the Hopolite's secondary hull, cutting it clean off nearly to the nacelle roots. The entire aft end of the ship was now a twisted, shattered ruin. But not only had the beam destroyed the aft secondary hull, it imparted significant momentum upon the surviving parts of the Hopolite. The sudden violent spin proved to much for the already overtaxed structural integrity field and the left nacelle pylon was torn off because of the unbearable stress. The Hopolite bled plasma from the distorted pylon, adding it to the growing mass of ejected debris that signified a dying starship. Centrifugal force from the flat spin was causing nearly everyone on the bridge to be bent nearly sideways in their. The few personnel unlucky enough to be standing and even a few who's tractor restraints hadn't been able to compensate quickly enough during the impact were thrown clear across the bridge to hit heavily against the far wall. Some cried out from their wedged positions against the wall, others said nothing and made no movement whatsoever. The g forces of the spin made it hard to breathe, let alone issue orders, and even if there was time to get to the escape pods, those same g forces would insure that you would never make it to them.  
  
Lighting flickered and died, only to reactivate a split second later as backup power came online. On one of the crazy spins, a fleeting glimpse of their attacker was seen in the flickering, static filled main viewer. The front end of the spindle shaped craft was glowing ominously, and it was at that moment that Ulysses was sure he and the rest of the Hopolite's crew were dead. 


	20. Chapter 18

- CHAPTER 18 -  
  
- Former Borg System A875 34B9 -  
  
-The attack had gone nearly as planned. The Enemy vessel was now all but dead, its aft end splintered and broken, the rest of the ship spinning out of control. It had died even more easily than the first Enemies had, just as had been predicted. The picket ship prepared to fire again and eliminate the threat to the Race. After that was done, it would proceed through the now reactivated warp point to report to higher authorities back in familiar, friendly space. -  
  
- ISS Athena, Enroute to Former Borg System A875 34B9 -  
  
Fleet Admiral T'var sat calmly in the command chair of the massive Bastion class starship. Build after the Borg/Imperial war, it was among the largest space going structures known. There were only four such vessels in the entire Empire, one in the Terra Defense Fleet, one in the Vulcan Defense Fleet, one in Section 31's Black Fleet and the Athena. The Athena was, other than Section's Bastion class, the only ship of the class in offensive use. The other two never left Sol and Vulcan respectively except for minor training hops to nearby systems. They were the pinnacle of Imperial ship design.  
  
The Bastion class resembled a giant arrowhead more than anything else. She was 8,050 m long down the centerline and 6,100 m tall amidships. Quad Quantum Slipstream drive nacelles were mounted inline with the hull, under layers of ablative armor. Six enormous Quantum Slipstream Cores were placed throughout the ship's seemingly endless interior. The latest generation of ablative armor generators studded her monolithic hull. Shields so strong that they could normally only be found defending a planet were mounted on her flanks. A massive oval main deflector array was mounted in a recess along the lower portion of her angled hull. The Athena was the latest of the Bastion class, and as such she incorporated design improvements learned from actual usage of her sister ships. In order to improve responsiveness to helm and maneuvering, the Athena was the first of her class to incorporate a Borg STL drive system. The older vessels had used a standard impulse and RCS thruster arrangement that was clumsy and imprecise when compared to the Borg system, but that was scheduled to be replaced during their next scheduled refit. In the meantime, it meant that the Athena was both the baddest and best protected ship in the Terran Empire. She lacked the massive impulse engines that had been basically the one kink in the armor of her predecessors, but with the new Borg drive, it was eliminated. Due to the nature of Borg design, it was also a considerably tougher system to destroy because the drive was dispersed throughout the entire vessel. The space where the impulse engines and their fusion generators had sat was covered over with armor and devoted to increased fighter bays and extra weapons bunkerage.  
  
Bastion's fairly bristled with weaponry, with multiple gunports and phaser arrays littering the outer hull. 20 Quantum torpedo turrets similar to those first developed for the Sovereign class were arranged around her vaguely triangular hull for maximum coverage yet also maximum foreword firepower. Three Heavy torpedo launchers hid behind massive blast doors, two in the foreword hull, one to the rear. 100 Phalanx torpedo launchers were scattered evenly across the hull to provide anti fighter and anti destroyer capability without tying up the main weapons batteries. 30 Type XV Phasers wreathed the ship in massive, segmented arcs that guarantied phaser array survivability yet provided the most continuous coverage and firepower. 25 Quad Pulse Phaser Cannons mounted in ball turrets were scattered across the mountain of alloy and synthetics as well. Most were facing forward, but many were aligned to cover the other angles of attack as well. Four foreword facing Type II Phaser Lances and two rear facing ones rounded out the Bastion class' formidable arsenal. The Type II Phaser Lance was an improvement of the Type I's basic design. New gravity lensing technology had allowed for the Phaser Lance to target slightly off bore from their extremely narrow field of fire, widening it to a 10 degree cone instead of the Type I's 3 degree one. It also was able to fire a more powerful beam than the Type I's, and its rate of fire was also increased over the older version.  
  
Admiral T'var sat nestled in the middle of all that power, silently contemplating just what she would find when she arrived at A875 34B9. The revised orders had said that only an Aegean class Fleet Support Destroyer was left as a rear guard in the system. It was her captain that had reported Chriton's actions to Starfleet Command, and his quick actions made it possible that something might yet be salvaged from this mission.  
  
"Admiral, we are approaching the coordinates for the rendezvous." Athena's ops officer said.  
  
"Alright, orders to the fleet. Drop out of slipstream and assume formation Delta Nine."  
  
"Aye sir."  
  
The almost subsonic hum of the slipstream drive dropped in pitch rapidly, then cut out completely. The holo display changed from the nebulous blue tunnel of slip drive to the spark filled ebony of normal space. The fleet dropped out just in time to see a mysterious alien vessel open fire on the ISS Hopolite. The entire aft end of the Imperial ship was sheared away by the force of the attack and the tiny Aegean went spinning off out of control. T'var jumped to her feet.  
  
"Red alert! All hands to battle stations! Deploy the armor, set power to combat usage! Target that vessel and fire as you bear!"  
  
The massive Imperial monitor activated its ablative armor generators and within two seconds the carapace was fully in place. The massive doors covering the heavy torpedo tubes rolled aside as the shuttle sized warheads began to come online. Athena's com officer dished out orders to the rest of the fleet without having to be directly told. As Athena went to general quarters and armed weapons, the rest of the fleet was following her lead. The attacking alien vessel hadn't been moving very fast to begin with, and as it closed with its stricken prey to deliver the death blow it slowed further still. If 2nd Fleet's approach vector had been just a few more degrees off in any direction, stray shots that didn't hit the spindle shaped craft would most likely hit the Hopolite. Fortunately for the crippled Aegean class, 2nd Fleet had come in at just the right angle so that their fire would pass harmlessly by it.  
  
Nearly as one, the massed vessels of 2nd Fleet opened up on the alien vessel as the enemies own weapon powered up for the final shot. T'var had been in large fleet engagements before, but she never tired of seeing the raw fury a massed fleet could pour out on those that deserved it. Near the front of the wall shaped formation of capital ships and their escorts, space grew star bright as over 1000 vessels opened fire. 2nd Fleet's order of battle was one Bastion class Monitor, five Wraith class Super Dreadnoughts, 40 Sovereign class Battleships, 45 Galaxy class Battle Cruisers, 60 Prometheus class Heavy Cruisers, 55 Akira class Heavy Cruisers, 50 Nebula (Weapons Pod) class Heavy Cruisers, 75 Steam Runner class Cruisers, 80 Intrepid class Cruisers, 200 Saber class Destroyers, 300 Defiant class Destroyers, 250 Nova class Destroyers, 10 Nebula (AWAC) class Heavy Cruisers, and 20 Aegean Class Escort Destroyers. Every one of these ships opened fire on a lone target. The result was massive overkill.  
  
The long ranged Assault Phasers struck first and the spindle shaped craft writhed in the crossed fire of close to 100 beams of concentrated energy. There was little left for the follow on phaser, PPC and torpedo strikes to do other than scatter the expanding cloud of plasma that was a hostile alien vessel farther apart. With the enemy obliterated, the Athena moved closer to the out of control Aegean class and grabbed her with a tractor beam.  
  
"Order the SWAC's to scan for other alien ships in the area. Try and hail the Aegean class and get a situation report from them.  
  
- ISS Hopolite, That same time -  
  
The spin was becoming tiresome. Ulysses stomach was beginning to beg for death as a means of escaping the constant torture it was now undergoing. Suddenly the ship was rocked slowing their spin slightly and Ulysses closed his eyes tight waiting to see if death would be quick and painless, long and painful, or some combination of the two. After a few seconds more, the ship lurched to a stop. After nearly being thrown from his chair, but suffering no other ill effects, Ulysses slowly opened one eye to look around the bridge. Seeing everything much the same as it had been at the start of the demented carnival ride, he opened his other eye and waited a beat for his protesting stomach to subside. Emergency lighting was still on, but the control consoles and monitors around the bridge were flickering intermittently. The stench of fried electronics and smoke filled the bridge from the blown out science station.  
  
"Report!"  
  
"Hard to tell sir, main power is off line and bridge control systems are intermittent at best." P'tel said from the left side of the bridge. "Weapons are offline, shields are gone, internal coms are non operational. Main computer seems to be offline. Life-support is running on emergency backup. Anything more I can't tell you, the system's just to scrambled." P'tel said with a slight frown, but in typical Vulcan style, none of her emotions clouded her face or voice. Even though he couldn't read her mind, Ulysses knew what she was thinking. It was the same thing he was. What was the damned cold hearted ba$tard out there waiting for?  
  
"Mr. Eton, see if you can make it to main engineering. Once you get there, send someone back here with a damage report." Suddenly there was the whine of a transporter and everyone pulled their phasers and pointed them at the materializing beings. Everyone was shocked when the beings turned out to be Starfleet medics and security personnel. A middle aged medic turned towards where Ulysses stood.  
  
"You folks need some assistance?" The Medic said in a lazy drawl.  
  
"Where did you come from?!" Ulysses demanded. The medic rolled his eyes as if that should be obvious to anyone with more brain capacity than lichen.  
  
"Second Fleet, where else?"  
  
"Second Fleet? But you aren't due here for another three hours." P'tel said. She and everybody else on the bridge still had their phasers leveled at the newcomers. The medic shrugged.  
  
"Change in the schedule I suppose. I'm just a medic. They don't tell me nothin and I don't wanna know nothin. Safer that way." With Section spies always snooping around that was the Lords honest truth. Ulysses was still mulling what the supposed medic had said when suddenly a virtually emotionless feminine voice came over the com system.  
  
"Is there a problem Mr. Orlando?"  
  
"Not really Commodore, just that these here folks don't think we are whom we say we are."  
  
For the first time, emotion colored the disembodied voice. "Oh for the love of. Put the CO on." P'tel glanced at Ulysses and raised an eyebrow. He merely shrugged and responded to the Captain's demands.  
  
"This is Captain Ulysses Vanguard of the ISS Hopolite, to whom am I speaking?"  
  
"You're speaking to the third in command of this entire damned fleet, now you shut your mouth, stow your weapons and let my teams do their job. Understood?" It may have been phrased as a request, but there was the undeniable steel of command under it. The tense knot of muscle that had bunched at the base of Ulysses neck eased as he began to believe that the voice on the other end of the com really was from 2nd Fleet. Either that or it was the most imaginative and twisted bunch of pirates ever encountered. He holstered his phaser and stood at parade rest. Following his lead, the other bridge officers did the same.  
  
"Understood ma'am. And might I add that I am damn glad to hear your voice!" 


	21. Chapter 19

- CHAPTER 19 -  
  
- Alliance Space Station Retribution -  
  
Peter O'Tole lounged in the luxurious trappings of his temporary quarters. His personal attendants were circled around him. They were all strikingly beautiful young women of various species, which was only fitting for the most powerful crime boss in three quadrants. O'Tole's attendants were fawning over him, which is what they were paid, and paid well, for. His predecessors had used slaves instead of paid employees. That was how O'Tole had managed to get rid of them, slaves were easily convinced to turn against their masters, especially when they were as cruel and uncaring as the previous Cartel bosses had been. Peter was determined not to succumb to the same downfalls as his predecessors, so he both treated his entourage decently, he paid them handsomely as well. While this didn't ensure allegiance, it did mean that they were considerably less likely to stab him in the back.  
  
The portable com system that followed Peter everywhere beeped for his attention. He changed instantly from a content male to ruthless cartel boss. He snapped his fingers, which was the signal for his attendants to leave the room. They made small sounds of protest, for some of them it was an act, for others it spoke of actual attraction towards him. In the end it didn't matter which because they all had to leave. Only when Peter was alone in the room did he accept the incoming call. The frowning features of Chairman Greg Betare stared back at him.  
  
"It is done, the Council shall do nothing about the rise in attacks by the rebels. I've held up my end of the bargain, now are you going to hold up yours?"  
  
"Greg, Greg, Greg. You must learn to relax. Of course I'll hold up my end of the Bargain."  
  
"Good, because I have just received word that the schedule must be moved up. That damn fool Chriton has gone and jumped the gun, so everything needs to be put in motion immediately!"  
  
"What the hell do you mean jumped the gun! I thought you said that you had him under control!" Peter said testily to the Chairman.  
  
"Hey lay off, I thought I did but I was mistaken. And its not like this is a major deal anyway. Instead of commencing action in two weeks, we go as soon as possible."  
  
"Are you totally ignorant of the realities of orchestrating multiple axis of attack in secret across the better part of two quadrants?! Check that, of course you are or you would know that what you are asking takes time." The image on the screen frowned. Peter sighed. "Don't worry, it will be difficult, but the attacks shall be launched in time and you shall become the savior of the Terran Empire, just like in the plan."  
  
"Just as long as you strike soon. 2nd Fleet shall cease to be a concern shortly. I'm holding up my end, see that you hold up yours!" And with that Greg cut the scrambled, stealthed com signal. A slow, feline smile spread across Peter's face and he began to laugh quietly to himself. The door chime sounded.  
  
"Come" He said, still chuckling softly. Into the room entered the Orion slave girl that was his favorite plaything. Her green skin and raven black hair contrasted with the red hued lighting of the Klingon starbase.  
  
"Master, what is so funny?" She asked innocently as she slunk seductively towards him.  
  
"Nothing Marita, just a pawn with dreams of being a king."  
  
"Begging the Master's pardon, but that doesn't seem very funny to me."  
  
This caused Peter to go from quiet chuckles to side splitting, tear inducing laughter. After a spell, he finally got himself under control again.  
  
"I don't think that it will seem very funny to the pawn when he realizes just what he is either." Peter got a mental picture of Greg's face when he figured it out and burst into a fresh fit of self satisfied laughter, all the while Marita just looked on with a confused expression.  
  
- ISS Hopolite, Main Engineering, that same time -  
  
Chief Engineer Cmdr Clay Heidberg stared out the gaping hole where another 50 feet of starship should be. The emergency forcefields had engaged quickly, but it had been an interesting second or two before they had. For those couple of seconds, main engineering had been hell. Anything not nailed down or incapable of grabbing onto something had been sucked out into the void of space, including at least three crewmembers. It was only through sheer luck that Clay himself had been able to grab the edge of a railing as he was sucked along by it. Just as his grip was about to slip, the forcefields had sprung to life stopping both the suction and the near deafening roar of escaping atmosphere. Everything aft of frame 78 was just gone, ripped away by the astounding power of the new alien's weaponry. At least he and his fellow engineers had managed to get the internal coms back online. He looked toward the Quantum Slipstream core, informally known as the pit to any serving personnel. Its normally arcing globe of blue white plasma remained dark, despite the best efforts of Hopolite's remaining engineers and the teams from 2nd Fleet.  
  
"Ulysses to Heidberg, situation report please." The Captain's voice came over the speakers. Clay tapped his combadge.  
  
"Heidberg here sir. It doesn't look very good Captain. The mains are still offline, and it looks like they'll stay that way till we get to a repair yard. Currently everything is running on backups, but I can't say how long that will last. There is just to much damage to the main systems to allow for an accurate probability assessment. The left nacelle pylon is sheared off, and there is significant hull warping and buckling along the nacelle pylon root. Secondary hull is totally destroyed aft of frame 78. 10 engineering personnel are unaccounted for and presumed lost, along with all the pilots and marines." Their quarters were in the aft secondary hull, which was now either atoms or large splinters. Not even emergency pressure fields of their standard uniforms could protect them from the hideous energies released by the enemy weapon. S&R teams were still combing space with every available sensor, but so far they had found nothing and by this time probably never would.  
  
"So basically what you are saying is that we should shut down everything and get the Hopolite towed back to a yard?"  
  
"That's the long and the short of it sir. I'm sorry but the extent of the damage is just to severe for anything else we do here to be worth the time and effort. Anything we managed to cobble together to get main power and impulse back online would just have to be scrapped by the yard dogs anyway." A sigh came from the com as Ulysses made his decision.  
  
"Alright, have your people send everything into standby or shutdown and prepare for evac to the Athena."  
  
"Understood sir."  
  
"Good, Ulysses out."  
  
"Ok, you heard the Captain, shut it all down, there isn't anything more we can do here. Perhaps the yard dogs can pull off a miracle and get her patched back together."  
  
- ISS Athena, that same time -  
  
One of the most powerful weapons in 2nd Fleet's arsenal shuffled towards one of the mammoth flagships many turbolifts. His dark brown hair was unkempt and his uniform was wrinkled and slightly askew. His department strip was a black band around his black cuff, signifying PSI Branch. Many of the crew either ignored him or worse yet feared him. He couldn't blame them, but it still added to his isolation and distance from those he served with. Being a highly trained Romulan telepath put him on the outside of the mainstream Terran and Vulcan officers and enlisted personnel. It wasn't like he had had a choice in the matter. He had been selected at birth by Section 31 to undergo the considerable training and mind conditioning that enabled him to harness his telepathic powers for use against the enemies of the Empire. Unfortunately, that same conditioning caused things that most normal beings took for granted to be all but totally unknown to him. His interpersonal skills were virtually nonexistent, but it wasn't as if anyone actually wanted him for a friend anyway. His mind was so full of seeded commands and imperatives that he was nearly insane. Add to this already chaotic mixture a virtual inability to tune out the thoughts of others and what you got was a very screwed up individual.  
  
The specially modified Romulans that Section had whipped up for the Empire were among its most closely watched entities. Their sheer power meant that they were constantly under watch for any sign of instability or mental breakdown lest that power be turned against the Empire. As the rewired Romulan entered the lift, other crewmembers that had planned on entering the car waited for the doors to close. Corval rode the car to the bridge alone, yet even there, the constant mental voices of the rest of Athena's crew assaulted his mind. After years of living with them as a constant companion, the emotions and thoughts of others didn't bother him much. Even the extensive anti telepath training that all Starfleet personnel underwent was unable to stop his highly sensitive mind from reading their thoughts and feelings. Unless he concentrated, they came at him in a flood of garbled and crossed signals. But when he concentrated, there was little in the universe that could resist him. Fortunately for the men and women onboard Athena, his programming required that a superior officer order him to do so.  
  
The turbolift car, after a long ride, began to slow and the doors swished open to show the main bridge buried in the bowels of the ship. The room was three stories tall and there was a platform projecting out into the open space in the middle of the room. On it was the command chair of the powerful mountain of alloy and weapons. Multiple stations ringed the bridge deck on three levels, but the middle of the room was dominated by the command chair. Instead of a standard viewer, Starfleet engineers had decided to give the Bastion class an actual hologrid in its place. The battle took shape all around the command chair in full three-dimensional images. This gave the CO both a much more detailed view of the battlefield and a much wider field of view. Corval strode out the second floor balcony towards the flagships throne. Seated there under the overhead light was Fleet Admiral T'var. She turned towards Corval when he approached.  
  
"Y.yyou called aa.Admiral?" He said in his peculiar halting style, yet another side effect of the 'training' Section had forced upon him. The poor soul also looked at the floor or the bulkhead beyond T'var's left shoulder, never raising his eyes to directly meet hers. He was like a caged terrified animal, but instead of physical bars, he was held hostage behind the bars of conditioning and mind control that Section had used on him. It almost caused T'var to wince in sympathy every time she heard and saw him. To do something like what Section 31 had done to this being when he was a mere babe in arms was reprehensible. But she was a Vulcan, even better schooled than most citizens of the Empire in not letting her emotions show, so her inner turmoil remained her own. From the peculiar look that crossed Corval's face, he might have caught the edge of her emotions, so she buried them deeper and started talking to get his mind off of whatever he might have glimpsed. It wouldn't do for him to read her and find out her secret.  
  
"Yes Mr. Corval. I have a feeling that your services will be required soon. Within the hour we shall enter the Borg portal in an attempt to find 24th Fleet. Your special services shall be of great use if we encounter this new enemy before then. Please take a seat."  
  
"Yyyeess sirrr." Corval turned and sat in an observer's seat mounted along the wall, the whole time a perplexed look shadowed his face.  
  
- Fluidic Space, near the Borg portal -  
  
-All was in readiness. The small enemy fleet was coming into range now of the detached units, while the rest of the fleet had moved into a blocking position over its only avenue of escape. Only half of the blocking force would be needed even in a worst case scenario though, so the unneeded portion made plans to reenter the strange system on the other side. They would engage in a recon in force and report back to the fleet after they had thoroughly scanned the system. -  
  
- 24th Fleet, ISS Shiva, that same time -  
  
The Imperial vessels flew through the creepy green biomatter that filled every nook and cranny of this mysterious realm. The whole time Admiral Chriton sat smugly in his chair, supremely confident in his eventual victory.  
  
"Sir, I am detecting sporadic bio signs from directly ahead. Although contact is fleeting, it would appear that there is a rather large number of space born creatures there."  
  
"Excellent, that should be our quarry. According to the reports, they harness living creatures for their starships. Order the fleet to go to battle stations and assume combat formation gamma two."  
  
"Aye aye sir."  
  
The ships began to jockey into position, forming up into their assigned combat wings as the red alert klaxons began to bay. Then, like bolts from heaven, death and destruction rained down on their orderly files. Dozens of bioships swarmed out of the shrouding green biomatter, firing as they came. The capital ships staggered as large portions of their hull ceased to exist.  
  
Onboard the Shiva, the crew lurched as the insanely powerful beams clawed at her well armored outer hull. The ablative armor generators weren't working anywhere near as well as they should have, for armor integrity had already dropped 46%.  
  
"Order all ships to open fire!" Chriton cried out.  
  
Two of the Sovereigns disappeared in boils of white hot light as lucky, or unlucky depending on your side of the engagement, strikes lanced deep into their hull, found their slipstream cores, vaporized them, and continued out the other side of the ship. A wing of Defiants tried to make an attack run on one of the alien vessels, but despite it being nearly three times their size, it was almost more maneuverable than they were. The multiple volleys of pulse phaser cannon shots and quantum torpedoes seemed to be no more than flea bites to it, a mere annoyance causing little to no damage. The bioship lined up each of its pursuers in turn and blew gaping wholes in each of them. The first Defiant was struck just aft of the bridge along its starboard nacelle, with the attack stripping away fully 1/3 of the tough vessel. What survived went spinning out of control and out of the fight. Defiant number two was cleaved neatly in half by a well timed burst from the bioship. Number three was slightly luckier, it dove between the secondary hull and port nacelle of a hard fighting Galaxy. The bioships beam chased after it, first damaging the nacelle pylon of the Galaxy, then shearing away a significant portion of its saucer section as it met with an already weakened section. The battle unfolding was sheer chaos. Both sides were firing their weapons like demons, and the very space itself seemed to take on a glow from their beam weapons.  
  
A lightly damaged Sovereign streaked by, firing from both its dorsal and ventral phaser arrays as it sliced between two bioships. All it served to do was bring their wrath down upon it instead of her squadron mate that they had been concentrating on. Dual beams of death played down her armored spine, eventually finding a weakened area in her armor. Her secondary hull ceased to exist just short of her nacelle pylons. For a moment the Sovereign lurched drunkenly, nacelles and impulse engines fading as main power was momentarily lost, but then kicking back up to nearly full strength as her frantic engineering staff brought the slipstream core back online. Whipping her nose up into a 180 degree turn, the damaged Sovereign turned on her two pursuers, lining up one with her phaser lance. Its angry red beam lanced out towards one of the bioships while her torpedo turret spat blue white orbs of destruction. The lance hit the bioship's hull, and was soon joined by the Sovereign's phaser banks. For a moment, nothing happened, then the living hull began to show glowing molten fissures. A volley of 8 quantums flashed in on the lance's heels, and the bioship broke in half. But by concentrating on one of the bioships, the Sovereign had allowed the other bioship to sneak around to its damaged aft section. The Sovereign broke apart in a brilliant explosion as the bioship's beam found its slipstream core. 


	22. Chapter 20

- CHAPTER 20 -  
  
- ISS Shiva, Fluidic Space -  
  
The Shiva's main viewer showed a frantic melee as Imperial warships fought valiantly in a loosing cause. In mere seconds, another two flared and died, thinning 24th Fleets numbers still more. Already nearly 2/3 of the fleet were dead or dying, their sacrifice buying only a mere handful of their attackers. This wasn't supposed to happen. With 24th Fleets superior numbers, they should have cut through enemy resistance like a hot knife through butter, but instead the opposite was true. The main viewer darkened slightly as all foreword weapons opened up on a bioship unlucky enough to fly dead ahead of the Shiva. Her twin phaser lances melted double gashes in the bioships hull as she passed their field of fire. She spun away crippled, but that didn't last for long. Soon a volley of quantums and PPC fire ripped her to pieces. A flotilla of Sabers and Defiants were ripping into a damaged bioship with their PPCs, quantum torpedoes and phaser arrays. Just as they were nearing victory, four other bioships dropped in behind the gaggle of Imperials and opened fire. With their squadron mates destroyed around them, the six surviving Defiants and Sabers broke off pursuit and concentrated on their own survival. One of the Sabers wasn't so lucky. As it barrel rolled away from the line of fire, it flew straight into the lance beam of an Imperial Galaxy. Both it and the Galaxies intended target exploded. Some ships tried to cloak in an attempt to evade the bioships wrath, but they were still targeted despite the devices supposed enfolding safety. While under cloak, the Imperials were robbed of both their armor generators and their shields. And since the bioships could still track them when they were cloaked, it just made the Imperial vessels who tried the tactic die faster. Seeing this, few other captains dared try it.  
  
"Victory is at hand!" Chriton raved, his eyes bright with maniacal light. "Order all ships to advance toward the planet and lay waste to it!" There was a grin on his face that was entirely out of place. He seemed totally oblivious to the carnage being wrought on his once proud fleet.  
  
"But SIR!" Commodore Obed pleaded from his post. "We must WITHDRAW. The Fleet is nearly destroyed and." he never got to finish his sentence. Chriton's phaser lashed out and with a startled cry, Commodore Obed ceased to exist as the beam vaporized him. The Shiva lurched again as the alien beams ravaged her dwindling armor and shields. The entire bridge crew was starring open mouthed at Chriton. He glowered at them.  
  
"Anyone else yellow? This is the moment of our greatest victory, and you want to turn around and run like a whipped Klingon?!?" He shot out of his chair turning his venomous gaze and hawk like face at each of the bridge officers in turn. For the most part they tried to appear small and insignificant, trying to disappear into the bulkheads. None wanted to end up like the late Commodore, but they were all certain that they were going to die this day. The ship lurched again and both the wall panel and the wall behind it exploded in the faces of two of the officers, sending deadly shards of alloy and synthetic towards them. They screamed and fell to the deck, their faces bloody scorched messes. The ship rocked again, this time more violently, yet through it all by some miracle Chriton stood as if rooted to the deck. Another officer wasn't as fortunate and was thrown across the pitching bridge. His head struck a console edge and he fell to the deck unconscious. Despite Chriton's warning, here and there some Imperial vessels broke free from the twisting and turning melee to make the jump to slipstream back towards the only portal to this evil and death filled place.  
  
"Full power to the impulse engines!" Chriton bellowed, falling back into his chair as a particularly aggressive strike shook the ship. Overhead conduits burst, spewing foul smelling smoke into the bridge. Chriton still had his phaser clutched in his hand, and was pointing it towards the engineering station's operator. The engineer gulped but made his report anyway.  
  
"I can't do it sir! Impulse is offline, shields are 2% and failing, armor is compromised across multiple." The ship shook again and the engineering console exploded into the engineers back. He fell to the deck like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Outside, a wing of battered Akira's were pouring quantums and phaser fire out as fast as the arrays recharged and the tubes reloaded. Orange red beams lanced out from them, spearing nearly the same section of a bioship and keeping them there till the capacitors in the arrays depleted. Deadly strings of blue white pearls rippled out from their weapons pods to slash in on the bioships caught in the wings deadly crossfire. The Akiras were among the few wings that was still organized, done by sheer force of will and competence of their CO's and crews. They maneuvered as a single entity, concentrating fire on single bioships until they died. After taking out three of the enemy's ships, they caught the attention of 11 of their surviving brethren. With a coordination that put even the best the Imperials could do to shame, the bioships turned and sent concentrated fire back at the Akiras. Within seconds, the tsunami of destruction became too much for the armor and shields of the already lame Akiras, and they died in short order.  
  
On the Shiva, the same explosion that killed the engineer nearly threw the tactical officer from his chair, but he gripped the edge of his console with white knuckles and grimly continued. "Hull breaches on decks 30 to 46 section 2 through 7, decks 4 to 19 section 5 through 20. Structural integrity failing, stress on the outer hull is beginning to increase the hull breaches size. Emergency bulkheads and forcefields are in place but they won't last long." He involuntarily ducked as a Intrepid screamed by on the main viewer scant inches from a head on collision. A bioship followed shortly thereafter, one of its fins scrapping along the now pitted and melted armor of the Shiva. Finally it reached a still glowing and sparking crater and arched up and away from the ship. On the bridge, giant fountains of sparks spewed across the room and minor fires brewed up adding their own smoke to the already noxious atmosphere. "Assault phasers are offline, Heavy torpedo launcher is offline. Phaser arrays 2, 3 and 4 are gone, Quantum torpedoes are nearly depleted. PPC and Phalanx control has gone to local due to main sensor failure. Nearly half of them on the port side and 2/3s on the starboard are gone. Primary slipstream core is failing, main power dropping to 68% normal."  
  
The Shiva pitched violently to starboard and the bridge glowed orange as a bioship's beam lanced deep into the heart of the leviathan. Those caught in the beams immediate never even had a chance to scream as it tore apart their atoms. The rest of the bridge crew wasn't so lucky. The flash burns that they received from the weapons thermal bloom either incapacitated or outright killed most of the remaining bridge crew. But the burns were the least of their worries as a gale force wind began to suck all of the atmosphere out of the bridge and surrounding compartments down the beams deadly path. To preoccupied with their own wounds, they barely had time to scream before they were sucked into the void in the floor of the ship. Then the emergency forcefields and bulkheads slammed into place, putting a sudden end to the whirlwind. Only Chriton was left, the entire front of his normally spotless white and gold uniform scorched and blackened, his face and hands blistering with minor burns. Panels were flickering as both main power and their ship died. Those panels on stations that still remained intact that is. Most had been melted into slag by the beam. By some miracle the main viewer was still functioning but its image was snowy with interference and sensor degradation. On it the last few functioning Imperial vessels were being hunted down and killed. The Shiva lurched again, this time moving a considerable distance. From an outside view, her starboard ventral nacelle was shattered and streaming plasma. Her starboard dorsal nacelle was little better, and the main deflector and port nacelles faded as main power was lost. The few weapons that had still shouted back defiance even as the Shiva died fell silent. With helm control and main power offline, the Shiva began a slow corkscrew, pushed along by the expelled plasma from her shattered nacelles. On the bridge, for what seemed like the first time, Chriton took stock of what was accually happening around him.  
  
"What have I done?!" he said out loud in a horrified voice, his eyes flowing over the smoke filled carnage that surrounded him, "Dear God, WHAT HAVE I DONE!?!" Suddenly a pair of strong hands wrapped a sliver chain around his throat. The surprise was total, and Chriton's eyes bulged as his hands flew in a desperate attempt to claw the chain away, but they were helpless against the irresistible, incessant tightening of the chain. A voice whispered in Chriton's ear.  
  
"Tickle us, do we not laugh? Prick us, do we not bleed? Wrong us, shall we not revenge?" The once great Klingon Warrior Chang whispered with considerable relish. With the chain grasped tightly in one hand, Chang reached down with the other one and pulled out Chriton's dagger. He then plunged it into Chriton's cold black heart. With a final strangled gasp, Thomas Chriton died. Chang let the body drop like so much refuse. He then turned back to the main screen. On it, he could just make out a gaggle of bioships forming up into a ring formation. Another, slightly different looking bioship moved into the middle of the ring. Once the formation was complete, the encircling ships began to fire into the middle vessel. At first Chang thought that it was madness, why else would they be turning their fire on their own ships. But then, when the middle ship wasn't destroyed, when it in fact seemed to power up the middle ship and its front section began to glow ominously, Chang knew. Standing proud and tall, like the true warrior he was, he tipped his head back and howled at the ceiling of the bridge. It was a warning, sent to the dead, warning them that a Klingon warrior was about to arrive. He would take his place at Sto-Vo-Kor with the honored dead. A massive beam, more powerful than any weapon Imperial scientists had ever dreamed of, bowled into the heart of the handful of Imperial ships left. It struck the Shiva's scarred and battered from and the ship splintered and blew apart, the ensuing fireball taking out the rest of 24th Fleet's remaining ships. They had huddled around the near dead leviathan as if it could somehow protect them from the end that was now unavoidable. They died with their flag ship and once they were gone, from 24th Fleet's original order of battle, only five Intrepids, one Akira and three Sabers had managed to break free of the battle, but none were unharmed, and many were in fact on the verge of collapse. One of the finest fleets in the Empire had just had its head handed to it by less than 1/5 their number. 


	23. Chapter 21

- CHAPTER 21 -  
  
- ISS Hopolite, Main Bridge -  
  
Captains Log, Stardate 31948  
  
Preparations to abandon the Hopolite are nearly complete. It is with some trepidation that I abandon my first command, but there is nothing more to be done unless it's during a major stay in the care of a shipyard. While the fact that the Hopolite was lost after only a few days in my care may not show well in my record. It is my hope that the board of inquiry that will inevitably be called will show that I did everything in my power to save my command and my crew. My major current dilemma is just what the Empire was thinking when it decided to start a war with this new alien race.  
  
To the Borg, they are known as Species 8472, and seeing their ship brought memories terrible to the surface. Memories of my time spent as a Borg drone. While linked to the collective, I was exposed to the hive mind. In it I saw the horrible damage Species 8472 had caused to the lead elements of the Borg invasion into fluidic space. Surely the Terran Council has access to the same memories as I do? How else would they know the location of this installation? But if they knew what they would find when it was activated, why did they send so few ships? I fear that the rescuers of 2nd Fleet will need to be rescued before this is all said and done.  
  
"Captain?" P'tel asked.  
  
"What is it Cmdr."  
  
"All systems are now in standby mode, the crew, along with their personal effects, are ready to be transported to the Athena."  
  
"Thank you P'tel, you may notify the Athena that they can begin transport." His words were cut off by a frantic shout from his tactical officer.  
  
"Captain LOOK!"  
  
- Five minutes earlier, in Fluidic Space -  
  
-The battle fleet was assembled, waiting for the few survivors of the Enemy to arrive. They had to return here, for they had no other way to return home. -  
  
On board 24th Fleet's survivor's de facto Flagship, the Akira class ISS Battle Born, a distraught, nearly panicked Captain Bridget Fells paced left and right on her bridge. Never in a million years had she expected to inherit command of the Fleet, if the few maimed survivors that managed to escape with their lives could be called a fleet. Bridget, unlike her crew and the other survivors of 24th Fleet, had to figure out a way to get her hurt units and the crews they held home. While the Battle Born could have made the trip back to the portal within mere seconds, she was purposely limiting the output of her slip drive so that the more seriously hurt of her few companions could keep up. As a result, the trip was taking close to 15 minutes, and with every extra second that ticked by, the chances that their entry point would be discovered and blocked increased.  
  
In its current state, and given the strength of the enemy vessels defenses, the survivors of 24th Fleet wouldn't stand a chance against even a lone enemy ship. Her mind played back the frantic dogfight that had ensued when the demon vessels had interposed with 24th Fleet. Demons they might well be, because they knew where even cloaked vessels were without using any detectable sensors. Demons because their weapons were even more powerful than a Phaser Lance and had a rate of fire comparable to a phaser array. Demons because their ships registered as life forms, yet were powerful enough to shrug off an entire volley of quantum torpedoes and still come at you. Every time a ship had broken free to try and run, no less than three of the alien craft fell upon it. Despite their being slightly larger than an Intrepid, they maneuvered like a fighter and destroyed everything in their path like some malevolent force of nature, unstoppable and implacable.  
  
"Captain," the Battle Born's soot covered chief engineer said, interrupting her dark train of thought. "I have restored power to weapons and shields, but there are still fluctuations in the SIF field, and our hull is maimed pretty badly." Which was an understatement, there was a massive bite clean through the starboard saucer.  
  
"Thank you Mr. Orourke." That in and of itself was an indication of just how deep her shock ran. Normally she would have not even bothered to thank him for a job well done. From across her scorched and broken bridge, through the thinning shroud of smoke that still lingered despite the strained environmental systems best efforts, her helmsman called out.  
  
"Coming up on emergence point ma'am."  
  
"Open an all ships channel."  
  
"Done sir."  
  
"This is the flagship, all ships to go to red alert and divert all available power to shields and impulse drives. We're in no shape to fight anything that might be out there waiting for us, so we'll have to run for it. Good luck and Gods speed. Fells out." The swirling blue cloud like tube of slipstream faded rapidly as the hum of the slip drive quieted. Soon the view reverted to the sickly green tinge that was normal space here. The ships formed up and began their run for the portal. Suddenly the deadly beams of the alien vessels began to lace out of the shrouding green mists, orange lances of destruction striking at the already damaged Imperial vessels. But they were attacking from long range and their accuracy suffered. They only killed three Intrepids and a Saber in their first volley.  
  
One Intrepid was speared through her middle, the beam punching through her starting with just below her main deflector and not stopping till it blew through the other side. Because she was traveling a high impulse, the beam cut along her centerline like a razor sharp knife. The Intrepid vanished in a flash as the beam finally met her antimatter storage tanks and her slipstream core.  
  
Another Intrepid was struck by two beams coming from nearly opposite directions. They plowed into her and she broke into flaming wreckage as her structural integrity field failed under the massive strain. The third was clipped on her fore primary hull, pitching the ship violently upward. It died seconds later as a second beam hit it dead aft when the ship was pointed straight up. It shot straight through the middle of the Intrepid before internal explosions claimed what was left. The saber just disintegrated when the beam struck it. By a cruel twist of fate it was the most severely damaged of the surviving vessels, with close to half of its hull gone. It literally had looked like a piece of Swiss cheese, and Bridget Fells was thoroughly amazed that it had still flown at all, let alone kept up with the rest of the survivors. But its valiant struggle was all for not as it died under the fresh assault.  
  
A beam shot out of the green depths of fluidic space, its source still hidden in its swirling embrace. It struck the starboard nacelle of the Battle Born, and even the overloaded shields weren't enough to do more than imperceptibly slow the beams headlong charge. It sheared the nacelle off, leaving a broken stump that leaked plasma like blood in the ship's wake.  
  
On the Battle Born's bridge, the ship shook and its rear lurched to port and up with the force of the impact and ensuing explosion that severed the nacelle pylon. Lighting failed as main power went offline, but it was quickly replaced by backup systems. As the main viewer popped back up, Captain Fells got an eyeful of the swirling teal green Borg portal.  
  
"To slow bas*ards!" she spoke quietly, so even her first officer riding white knuckled in his chair three feet from her wasn't sure she had even spoken. The surviving Akira, Intrepid and twin Sabers staggered through the portal towards the relative safety of the other side. If they could get the portal closed fast enough it might just save their hides. 


	24. Chapter 22

- CHAPTER 22 -  
  
- ILV Scarlet Fang, Docked at Alliance Station 338, Orouke Nebula, Near the Former Border of Lyran Space -  
  
Zathran looked over the reports again and closed his eyes trying to force calm upon himself. Despite his best efforts, a growl escaped from his throat. There had been some minor scuffles between Lyran and Mirak borders on the Imperial Nova class. And it was only because both our own and the Mirak vessels had to pull out that they remained minor scuffles. If that second Imp patrol had been even a few minutes late, there would have been more blood spilled on that ship. If that had happened, the current shaky alliance between the Lyran and Mirak peoples would end, and with it any hope of driving the Terran Empire from both Lyran and Mirak space.  
  
Even though he knew this, a part of Zathran longed to do just what his errant officers tried to do. Part of him longed for IMMEDIATE revenge against all of the wrongs the Mirak had done to his people. Through sheer force of will, he kept that part in check. After the Terran Empire was thrown out of Lyran space there would be time to settle old scores dating back over a century. In the mean time, he had more pressing concerns to worry about. The local Orion Cartel representative had left in search of the cartel's leadership upon hearing who one of the captives was. Captain Dorothy Chambers, late of the Imperial Star Ship Ogre, was a true prize indeed. She could be useful to the Alliance both as another source of information and as a bargaining chip should the need arise. In the mean time, her custody had fallen to him, and he intended to show her every courtesy her station demanded. Despite the fact that she was an enemy, that was no reason to be uncivil, it would be a slight on his own honor, and that of his pride's if he were to do anything less. Zathran stood from behind his desk and stalked out of his office with the fluid, cat like grace only another Lyran could duplicate. Dorothy Chambers capture alone nearly outweighed the losses in damaged and destroyed starships the attack incurred. Zathran smiled a feline smile. Fortunately it was Mirak ships and crews that had paid for the victory, not any Lyrans. Part of Zathran took some solace in that fact.  
  
- MSS Blood Oath, Docked at Alliance Station 312 in the Asteroid Field of System Zepata Urgo -  
  
The damage reports that the Mirak squadron had sustained, while lighter than the damage that the squadron had inflicted on the enemy, were still not good. While the Mirak fleet was growing quickly from its hidden shipyards scattered throughout useless systems in out of the way places, it was still short of experienced officers. In the coming battle, that fact may be the deciding factor. Of course there were those miracle weapons that had recently been offered to the Alliance he kept hearing about. Capable of disabling a starship, even one with active defenses, with a single blast if the rumors could be believed. While these rumors might even be true, it was the other persistent rumor that the Imperial Starfleet was even more short on trained personnel and vessels than their current dispositions would indicate. While they had taken a black eye and a few hard body blows during the Borg war, they were supposedly sending out cadets to fill in for fully trained crew. And there was also the other rumor that the Imperials were using captured Borg technology to bolster their numbers. A shudder ran through Hobbes' cream fur. Any species that thought creating Borg drones to solve personnel problems was a good idea deserved what was coming to it. And once the Terran Empire was out of the way, there were plenty of debts to collect on with the blasted Lyrans. Hobbes couldn't decide which he looked foreword to more, the removal of the Terran Empire or the continuation of hostilities with the Lyrans.  
  
- Alliance Space Station Retribution -  
  
".so we have to move up the original time table and strike as soon as possible." O'Tole said to the assembled high ranking officers. The Cardassian, Klingon, Romulan, Breen, Mirak, Lyran and Gorn officers stared back at him in stony silence. General Worf finally broke it.  
  
"And this source of yours, you are sure he can be trusted to give you accurate information? With a few more months of preparation, we could be in a much stronger position."  
  
"I know," O'Tole's face took on a slow, lazy smile, as if remembering an inside joke. "but my sources word has always been good before, and he wouldn't dream of turning on the Cartel. We have far to much dirt on him for that to be a paying proposition. If he says we need to advance the time table, then we advance it. Period."  
  
"Fine then." Worf said gruffly. As much as he hated it, he had to follow the game plan laid out by O'Tole if he wanted to stay in command, so he forced down his anger and changed the subject. "Do you have the proper codes and passwords for the first stage?"  
  
"Yes." O'Tole reached into his expensive suit and pulled out a data chip. "Everything they will need is on that chip. The vessel will be at the designated coordinates in 20 hours. Your crews can board her there, then make their way to Sol. Five hours after that, your fleets will strike. Can you all be ready by then?" A chorus of nods, or what their respective species used for them, answered him. While they didn't look all that happy about the sudden change in plans and the need to mobilize sooner than anticipated, they all knew that what must be done would be done on the revised schedule. "Very good, then I propose a toast and then we adjourn this meeting and proceed to the rally points." He reached for his glass, filled with Orion Firewine. The deep red mixture formed fire like tendrils of orange where his hand transferred warmth to the cool liquid inside, giving the drink its name.  
  
O'Tole lifted the glass. "To victory!" A hearty cheer of agreement rang back in his ears.  
  
- Alliance Space Station Retribution, Dock 3-B -  
  
Alliance Captain Luza strode down the utilitarian hallway to where her ship should be docked. She glanced out the halls widow placed near the airlock, merely a cursory glance that every captain did when they got to see the outside of their pride and joy for a change. Her glance returned to the airlock, then whipped around and stared out the window again, her feet nearly tripping over one another. The vessel docked at the slip most assuredly was NOT her beloved Bo'Par. The fleet little B'rel class ship that had been her first command was now gone. In its place was a shining new vessel. The pristine Vampire class was one of the newest ships designed by Klingon engineers. This one looked like it was fresh from the shipyard. The Vampire got its name from a mythical Terran creature that sucked the lifeblood from its victims. An Engineer with a twisted sense of humor had stuck the moniker on the ship when it was still a prototype and it had stuck. There was a certain irony in using it, seeing as how this class would be draining the lifeblood of the Terran Empire, its starships. Something was wrong here Luza thought as she approached the wall com and stabbed it with an angry finger. Whomever the globfly was that had moved her ship without informing her was in for it.  
  
"Luza to command, what have you pahtks done with my ship!" She growled into the com screen in her most menacing voice.  
  
"Done Captain? Nothing at all. It's at Dock 3-B, right where it should be. What seems to be the problem?"  
  
"Incompetent fools!" Luza muttered under her breath as one of her hands stroked her cranial ridges in a vain effort to relived the building stress. Then she spoke louder, carefully enunciating her words as if speaking to a mere child. "The vessel at Dock 3-B is not my ship. My ship is a B'rel, and the ship docked at the airlock most assuredly is not a B'rel! Now find my ship or so help me you will be begging me to kill you before I am through with you!"  
  
"But Captain, that ship is yours. General Worf has said as much, I just assumed that you were already informed." A shocked look came over Luza as she heard the faceless voice of a central command officer across the tiny com's speaker.  
  
"I. see command. Thank you for clarifying things, Luza out."  
  
Captain Luza stare at the majestic ship hanging in front of the window. It was close to the size of a K'Vort class, but it looked like an engineer had been asleep when the ship was being put together. Its aft section looked vaguely like twin K'Vort class aft sections mated together, and its neck and command deck had more in common with a Vor'cha class than your standard K'Vort. The Vampire class mounted 5 rapid fire disruptor batteries fore, a quantum torpedo launcher for and aft and a Mauler device foreword. The ship was nearly as maneuverable as a B'rel with significantly greater punch. While its warp core lacked the power to charge the Mauler's massive capacitor array quickly, it was able to handily recharge the disruptor's while maintaining a speedy flight profile. They were used to strike hard fast with their maulers, then close rapidly and finish off anything left with their disruptor banks. Slightly awe struck, Luza began to move towards the airlock and her X winged prize.  
  
The honor guard just inside the vessel's airlock braced to attention as she stepped into the dark brown/tan interior of the ship. Luza moved through her ship as if in a daze. This was too much to take in all at once. General Worf must have considerable confidence in her abilities to hand her a ship like this as only her second command. She walked into the bridge and saw her first officer stand up from the central chair and brace at attention along with the rest of the bridge crew.  
  
"Commander Krell, would you care to explain the meaning of this to me?"  
  
"Captain?"  
  
"Don't play coy with me, why was I granted this ship, and why was my entire bridge crew transferred here to it?"  
  
"All I know is that General Worf personally ordered that one of the new light fast attack cruisers be dispatched here for your new command. He swore me to secrecy, or else I would have told you. He also ordered that the Bo'Par's entire crew be transferred to this vessel, citing the fact that he didn't want to unsettle such a competent crew and commander on the eve of the rebirth of the Klingon Empire."  
  
"All right, then what is the name of this new vessel I am to command?"  
  
"He is the Imperial Klingon Vessel Bortas sir! And a fine ship he is to!" Luza's first officer said with an excited gleam in his eye.  
  
"We shall see.Are we ready to depart?" After Krell nodded affirmative, Luza sank into her new command chair, then began issuing orders. "Bring main power on line, slip all moorings, release docking clamps, bow thrusters ¼." A chorus of ayes answered her and the bridge officers busied themselves disengaging from the massive bulk of Retribution Station. Clangs and cracks of disengaging docking mechanisms were heard throughout the ship.  
  
Outside, running lights came on, highlighting the green exterior of the ship with smears of light. Puffs of thrusters jetted from the bow portals, gently pushing the ship away from the station. Once sufficient distance had been made between the station and the ship, her impulse drives began to glow as power flooded into them, In the blink of an eye, the ship had flipped 180 degrees and began streaming away from the station. She quickly dropped into her assigned formation, Wing leader of four other Vampires. The new wing maneuvered into the growing stream of Alliance vessels as they joined up for the convoy to their assigned launch point. Hundreds.thousands of vessels streamed past before the Bortas and her sister's place in the formation came up. Klingon Chava'kals, Koloths, D-7 refits, B'rels, K'Vorts, Vampires, Vor'chas and Negh'Vars past the Bortas. Cardassian Hidekis, Legates, Rasilaks, Sartans, Galors and Keldons cruised by. Romulan Talons, Shrikes, Griffins, Shadows, Venators and massive Warbirds jockeyed for positions in the convoy. Breen cruisers and battleships weaved their way through the fleet. There were even the odd Lyran and Mirak ships present, sent here as part of their contribution to the Alliance on this front. Klingon, Cardassian, Romulan and Breen ships were present in the fleets moving to the Lyran/Mirak front as well. After a few more moments, the entire ungainly, massive formation cloaked and entered the subspace corridor to its rally point. From there, it would only be a few short hours till they began the offensive. 


	25. Chapter 23

- CHAPTER 23 -  
  
- Cargo Vessel ICS Pearl Harbor, Wolf 359, Enroute to Sol System -  
  
The cargo ship cruised through the subspace corridor just like every other cargo ship plying the Empire's space. It was basically a long tube with hexagonal cargo cylinders attached to its mid part, warp and impulse engines on the rear, and a small crew compartment and main deflector mounted on the front. It was a true behemoth of the space lanes, easily the size of two Galaxy class ships, but with a normal crew of only 25 people. They were all were required to run the simplistic systems of the merchie, and nearly all of its massive volume was devoted to cargo canisters anyway.  
  
Many of its holds were full with standard fare, edible foodstuffs for those who still preferred them to replicated food, ship parts that were either not easily replicated or unable to be replicated, trade goods from various far away places that were sure to interest the cosmopolitan peoples of Terra. But while many of this vessel's holds contained true goods, many did not. In fact, what those other holds carried would be an instant death sentence to the merchie's crew. Not that its current crew particularly cared about that, because one way or another this was a one way trip. They knew this from the outset, yet they were perfectly willing to carry out this mission. It would only be the first strike against their Terran oppressors, but it would enable the rest of the strikes to go ahead in a much easier way than they would have faced otherwise. All that remained was for the ship to enter Sol system and take up its position at the desired spot in orbit.  
  
Weather it would make it there or not was still in question, for the space around Terra, more so than anywhere else in the galaxy, was tightly controlled. Powerful Imperial warships patrolled the travel corridors, and the most powerful fleet in the Empire defended the system. Massive spacedocks, battle stations and orbital weapons platforms were seeded thick enough that you could seemingly step from one to the next from the edge of the system nearly to Sol itself. And where the stations were thinner, vast shoals of self-replicating subspace mines swam silently in the dark void, ever watchful for enemies that stumbled into their midst. At regular intervals throughout the system, warp inhibitors were seeded nearly as thickly as the mines. They ensured that no one could sneak into Sol unannounced. The warp inhibitors also mounted sensitive detection equipment and tachyon detection grid installations, enabling them to scan for cloaked vessels trying to sneak into the heart of the Empire. The sheer scale of Sol's defenses was amazing, as was the cost to both build and then maintain them. But the Terran Empire spared no expense to defend its homeworld from outside attack.  
  
The Pearl Harbor dropped back into realspace just beyond Pluto as the main subspace corridor linking Sol to the rest of the galaxy terminated. It was immediately targeted by no less than three Armageddon class battle stations. Their massive twin toadstool look bristled with weapons and sensors. This was the first major hurdle in the operation. If they were able to get past Sol's outer defensive perimeter, they stood a much greater chance of making it to their objective.  
  
"Transmit your security ident immediately or you will be destroyed." Came the gruff, matter of fact voice of an Imperial space control operator. Even as he spoke, fire control sensors were lashing the cargo vessels hull in energy. The battle stations had large portions of their formidable weapons systems locked on the cargo ship. Being that it was both a civilian vessel and a merchie, the Rhodes mounted only light navigational shields. But even if it had been equipped with the most powerful Monitor class shields, they wouldn't have lasted long against the fire power of the Armageddon battle stations. They were currently throwing every sensor imaginable against the merchie, searching for anything that looked out of place.  
  
"Security ident 133394-Alpha-Beta-Twin-7946, Imperial Cargo Ship Pearl Harbor, enroute to Terra out of New Valhalla." The ships Klingon captain said through a computer generated doppelganger. While the ruse wouldn't stand up to close electronic scrutiny, it was supposedly enough to pass the cursory inspection that the security perimeter used. While he gave the security ident to the traffic control operator, both the Pearl's central computer and a similar one on one of the battle stations were in communion with each other. They went through a complex series of codes in order to verify that the security ident was indeed assigned to this vessel and hadn't been tampered with in any way.  
  
"Stand by for verification." The assembled crew on the bridge held their collective breaths. This was the point that would decide weather their mission ended almost before it began or weather they were nearly home free. Seconds ticked by like hours, and the bridge was silent except for the background sounds of an active starship, the nearly subsonic rumble of the ships warp core, the occasional quiet beep of a panel, the faint whisper of the air circulating through the bridge. All seemed magnified because of the unnatural silence that lingered for a seeming eternity.  
  
"Ident verified, proceed on course 223 mark 94 at full impulse. Any deviation in course will be met with deadly force." And the channel to the Armageddon battle station's space control officer died. The crew let out their breath explosively and turned to grin at one another. They just might succeed after all.  
  
"Helm," Captain Korath barked to his Romulan helmsman Solak, "lay in the specified course and engage at full impulse." He then sat back in his chair with a satisfied smile on his face.  
  
"Lining up on course 223 mark 94 and engaging full impulse." As he spoke, the starfield on the main viewer shifted slightly and the background throb of the ships engines increased as the ship kicked her speed up to nearly ¼ light speed. The slightly brighter than the rest of the stars yellow glow of Sol was slightly off center on the viewer, nearly hidden behind the ship that had entered the ingress corridor just prior to the Pearl Harbor. A long line of ships cruising deeper in system marked the corridor nearly as clearly as its encircling weapons platforms. At full impulse, it would take slightly better than 20 hours to travel to Terra orbit and there were another two checkpoints along the way. But the ECM system had functioned as advertised. The cargo pods that contained things other than cargo had been thoroughly scanned by the Armageddon's powerful sensors, yet they hadn't found anything alarming about them. They had showed up as more mechanical cargo, which was exactly what the ECM suites had been programmed to show.  
  
"Ha!" came a nasally voice from behind Korath. "I told you that the ECM generators would fool the Imperials sensors! That will be five slips of gold pressed latinum!" The Ferengi engineer Brez said as he shoved his hand over Korath's shoulder to hold it open palmed in front of the Klingon Captain.  
  
"And why would you even want it? You are never going to get a chance to spend it anywhere are you?" The frowning Klingon growled. He hated to lose, even if it was something as trivial as a small bet with a Ferengi, and who even if he collected would never get to enjoy his winnings.  
  
"A deal is a deal; 16th Rule of Acquisition. So pay up!"  
  
"Oh all right! If it will get you to shut up here, take your 5 slips." Korath dug into his pocket and pulled out the latinum. He slammed it forcefully into Brez's outstretched hand. The Ferengi jerked his hand back once it contained the latinum, as is Korath would try and take it back. Then once it was safe the short Ferengi half laughed, half giggled at his new fortune. Korath merely growled then refocused his attention back on the long line of starships in front of him. This was going to be a long 20 hours.  
  
- ICS Pearl Harbor, 19 and ½ Hours Later -  
  
The check at the other security points had gone as flawlessly as the first one had. Now the green and blue and white orb of Terra loomed large on the main viewer. Korath couldn't believe it, they had actually made it into the very heart of the Terran Empire's home system undetected. The codes the Orion Cartel had gotten a hold of had worked flawlessly. Korath knew that they had a potent intelligence apparatus, but security passes for Sol System were extremely rare to get a hold of for even TERRAN merchants! You had to know someone who would let you have access to one, and even then candidates had to go through exhaustive memory, history and reliability checks before the ident was granted. But all of that didn't matter, for it HAD been granted and it DID work to let the Pearl into Terra orbit.  
  
- San Francisco, Council Tower, That same time -  
  
Jack Chambers looked out across the assembled delegates, then turned away and began to walk out of the Council chamber. A stir was flowing across the members, for it wasn't everyday that someone quit the council. In fact, no one had EVER quit the council! Yet that was just what Jack had done. Surprisingly, he felt as if a weight had been lifted from his back as he strode out of the warren of political creatures. His only regret is that he had delivered it on a day when his former friend, Chairman Greg Betare was busy elsewhere in the system and couldn't attend the meeting. But Jack couldn't go through another session with those self-serving prigs. If they wanted to keep their heads in the sand about the realities of the galaxy, the let them. He just wanted to be there when it came back to bite em in their exposed posteriors. The Council could say what they wanted, he was going out to the 'provinces' as it were to find out for himself just what was going on. If the governing body wasn't going to take action, then someone had to. Jack made his way into the exterior lift shaft and entered the car alone. It was one of the express tubes that served the Council Chamber alone, and the cityscape outside the armored windows began to seemingly grow as the lift made a speedy drop down to ground level. Jack's private shuttle was already waiting for him at the bottom when he exited the lift car. After a quick yet thorough preflight, He activated the contra grav drive and slipped into the traffic grid on an exit vector out of the city.  
  
- ICS Pearl Harbor, Terra Orbit, That same time -  
  
"What we do here today shall be remembered for an eternity! Great songs shall be sung of this day! We shall all be welcomed into the Gates of Sto- Vo-Kor and take our place among the honored dead!" Korath spoke via the all ships com. "Victory shall be ours!!" Then he closed the channel. While the Klingon's in the crew found it inspiring as hell, the rest of the species didn't find it nearly so. They each had their own reasons for volunteering for this mission, and while they were unified in their fight against the Imperial oppression of their individual species, none had chosen to say what they were exactly. Out of simple courtesy, none of the others had asked them.The Breen bridge officer turned towards him and emitted a series of overlapping synthetic sounding beeps and boops.  
  
"I don't care that you don't believe in my 'quaint barbaric traditions'. Once we succeed in our plan we shall all become true warriors."  
  
"Speak for yourself Korath." Solak said from the helm station. "I am doing this to help my people. If my death makes it easier for them to live in peace without having to worry about the next slave labor quota the Terran's issue, I shall die a happy Romulan." The Klingon smiled at that.  
  
"I don't care what your reasons are. We shall die like warriors and our names shall forever more be spoken with reverence. We shall be like the heroes of old, before our empires were crushed under the Terran's boot heel. And I shall meet all of you in Sto-Vo-Kor and say I told you so." He said with a tooth filled grin, but then he sobered. "But we are not yet finished. Is everything at readiness?"  
  
"Yes sir." Came the reserved reply from the Cardassian who had become co tactical officer along with a giant, deep green skinned Gorn who also hissed his readiness.  
  
"Ready sir." Came the snarling/bagpipe sound of the Lyran com officer. From across the bridge, a similar, yet different sound came from the Mirak officer, indicating her readiness as well. Once all stations had sounded off, Korath flipped up a hidden panel on his chair, revealing a red button labeled commit in Klingonese. Without further ado, he jabbed his finger down onto the button, sending the mechanical mechanism into its fully depressed position. A series of loud bangs and an explosion was heard and emergency alarms began to wail across the ship. 


	26. Chapter 24

- CHAPTER 24 -  
  
- Terra Armageddon class Battle Station Guadalcanal -  
  
For a brief second, a single amber contact of a merchant ship on the master system's display holo, known by the staff in Guadalcanal's CIC as the God's Eye View, flickered to the angry crimson of a hostile, weapons bearing enemy. Lt. James Ferguson frowned at the master display, and ran a hand through his slightly wavy short brown hair. Then he entered a series of commands into his LCARS panel that brought up the affected ship. While his personal station's individual monitor wasn't large enough to display the entire Sol system's traffic and contacts like the vast detailed holo projection that filled the center of the room from floor to ceiling, it wasn't designed for that anyway. It was designed to show precise information on individual targets. The whole mishap had happened so fast that he wasn't even sure it had been anything more than a glitch. Just the same, it was better to be safe than sorry.  
  
"Computer, initiate a deep scan of ident 133394-Alpha-Beta-Twin-7946 and show the results on my terminal."  
  
"Processing." Came the sultry feminine voice of Guadalcanal's computer. On his screen, a detailed external view of 133394-Alpha-Beta-Twin-7946 came up, and a caption titled Deep Scan with a % complete bar under it began to increase as the massive sensor arrays of the battle station refocused their power onto a single vessel in Terran orbit. The % bar crept upwards toward completion, but it hadn't quite made it before large sections of the merchant vessel sheared off on his display. Alarms began to wail across the massive station as Sol's multitudinous sensor arrays detected the unscheduled movement of the merchie.  
  
"What the HELL?!"  
  
- ICS Pearl Harbor, That same time -  
  
Along the massive cargo ship, a series of hidden explosives sheared of the cargo cell anchoring struts, freeing them on carefully programmed and mapped out trajectories. Those that remained attached to the ship were breached, dumping their cargo into space. The Pearl pitched violently from the explosions, and to any outside observer it appeared that a catastrophic accident had gripped the ship. Captain Korath activated the com system.  
  
"Mayday Mayday Mayday!! This is the Cargo Vessel Pearl Harbor. We have experienced massive hull breaches across all decks and main power is off line! We require immediate assistance!" Korath had to fight hard to keep the exaltation from his voice, for after all he was supposed to be a panicked Terran merchie captain, not a Klingon who had just completed the first of many victorious assaults on the Terran Empire. Their mission was a success, all that remained now was to sit back and wait for the fireworks to start. He turned to his com officer. "Set that on a continuous repeat." Then he looked at his tactical officers. "Are they moving on course?"  
  
"Yes sir, they will be in striking range in 30 seconds." Macet, his Cardassian weapons officer replied with great relish. Even the normally inscrutable Gorn officer seemed to have a satisfied air about him. A collective sigh of relief went through the massive ships small crew. They had done it, struck at the very heart of the Empire, moved in under the Imperials very noses to deliver a stunning body blow.  
  
"Put it up on screen, and send it to all terminals. The crew deserves to see their handy work for themselves."  
  
- IBS Guadalcanal, That same time -  
  
The bar went to 100% and the vast energies of the battle stations sensors peered intently at the now broken and battered merchant ship. While the ship itself remained the amber of a merchant vessel, the ruptured and drifting cargo containers turned the angry crimson of hostile contacts. The were drifting away on seemingly aimless routes, but then the sensors detected energy spikes that could only be thruster systems. The cargo pods abruptly slowed, then stopped their course. More power spikes were seen on sensors as they began to power up. All of this happened within the space of a second or two, and it took that long for James Ferguson's stunned brain to kick his hand into motion. His hand flashed out to pound the one control on his panel that he had never used. As he pressed it, he spoke into his terminals pickup and his voice was carried across every military com in all of Sol system.  
  
"CASE ZULU! CASE ZULU! All ships target the bogies I am transmitting now!" Case Zulu was a preplanned response to a hostile covert incursion into the Sol system. It had never been used because no one had ever been able to get into the system covertly before. For what it was worth, Lt. Ferguson did everything right. He was just about five seconds to late.  
  
While ships and stations in the middle defensive perimeter were always half at battle stations and half off, and the outer perimeter at ¾ on and ¼ off, the inner perimeter had no stations on battle alert. This was just common sense, as the other two shells of defenses would have noticed any intruder. As a result, no defensive systems or offensive systems were on line near Terra. They began a frantic power up, but it was already far too late to change anything. The cargo canisters finally dropped all pretence of ECM coverage as they shunted all the power their fusion reactors could into the weapons capacitors. While relatively short ranged in the scale of shipboard weapons systems, the Mauler Device was one of the most destructive known. The 20 hidden in the Pearl's ECM hidden cargo pods were each targeted at a specific target.  
  
Eye tearing bright lances of silver blue fire speared from each of the 20 jettisoned cargo canisters as they fired their hidden weapons simultaneously. The first 10 were targeted at five nearby battle stations, and they struck like the wrath of God. With no shields, and with only their fixed armor to interdict them, the massive beams struck home and shattered the massive constructs like they were made out of balsa wood and not reinforced duranium and ablative armor. If they had fully energized shields and deployed armor from their ablative armor generators, the battle stations might have physically survived the assault. But with only their passive defenses in place there was no chance at all and their fragmented hulls disappeared as their internal antimatter stores met with the expanding debris of the stations. The night side of Terra glowed as for a few moments Sol gained five our more miniature suns. Another six Mauler's were targeted on six nearby shipyards and they shattered them even more easily than they had the battle stations. Three Mauler's were targeted at the gargantuan Bengal class Spacedock that orbited Terra like a second moon. The huge station could house up to three Wraith's in it interior, and its crew numbered in the hundreds of thousands. While even three of the powerful Mauler's wouldn't be enough to outright destroy a Bengal class Spacedock unless they were extremely lucky, they could severely cripple the station and any ships that it housed in its cavernous interior.  
  
The Spacedock was farther away from the Mauler's than the Armageddon Battle Stations had been, and as such had had precious extra time for its stunned crew to respond to the Case Zulu command. But even so, its shields were still nebulous and its ablative armor generators still in the process of deploying when the three swaths of destruction came crashing in on it. The beams punched through one side of the titanic mountain of alloy and nearly powered through the other side as well, only stopping when the struck the inside of the deployed ablative armor. Inside the docking bay, massive hunks of molten metal spewed from the Mauler beams path to strike at the helpless docked ships inside. They were powered down and utterly defenseless as the shards of station careened into them at high speed. One struck a docked Wraith and cut the powerful vessel in half. Another bowled through three Defiants and an Intrepid, leaving nothing but expanding plasma in its wake, before the relatively intact far wall of the docking bay stopped it.  
  
A smaller chunk of debris sheared off the rear half of a Sovereign's port nacelle, and it was only because the ship wasn't powered that it didn't cause a warp core breech. But none of that mattered as an Akira class was cut free of its moorings and careened into a docked Achilles class ship. The collision wouldn't have been very bad if everything had been left alone. The Akira was drifting slowly and wouldn't have caused any great damage to either ships when they met. But Murphy's Law came back with a vengeance and the Akira's frantic helmsman, a mere ensign fresh from the Academy and virtually alone watching the docked ships bridge, pressed the wrong button on his thruster control panel. The Akira, instead of slowing its drift towards the helpless Achilles, actually sped it up. The two ships crumpled together till their torpedo reserves and antimatter fuel tanks ruptured. The resulting powerful explosion caused a domino effect with the other docked, unshielded ships, and the entire surviving docking bay went up in a massive fire ball that jetted out the three jagged and splintered holes that the Maulers had made like three tongues of fire. The massive station lost all power and began to list slightly because of the expelled force of the explosion and with no systems online to counter it.  
  
The final Mauler was targeted not at a space station or shipyard, but at Terra herself and the San Francisco Bay area of North America. Specifically it was locked in on the exact coordinates of Council Tower and the Council session currently underway there. Like the space born installations before it, Council Towers defenses were barely beginning to come online when the Mauler's silver blue beam of destruction hit. One moment the assembled councilors from Terra, the important Terran colonies, Vulcan and the important Vulcan colonies and the small Hydran contingent had been in impassioned debate, the next they were gone, never having known what had hit them. The Mauler beam shot down through the atmosphere, sending a blast wave of superheated air in front of it. The building simply disappeared in a flash of sun bright fury as it was disintegrated under the beam's assault. An expanding ball of plasma erupted from the center of the attack outward, toppling the nearby towers, and great hunks of earth and pulverized cityscape were thrown skyward much like a volcanic eruption. The blast front was similar to a nuclear device's, and a nearly solid wall of flame roared over the unsuspecting city, blowing buildings, air cars, shuttles and people away without any difficulty at all. The blast wave leveled most of downtown, reaching out to claim one tower and the entire center span of the famous Golden Gate Bridge. What wasn't leveled by the blast wave was pelted by thrown up chunks of earth and debris, some the size of large shuttlecraft, that rained sometimes a considerable distance from the impact site. The first attack by the Great Alliance on the Terran Empire was a stunning and complete success. 


	27. Chapter 25

- CHAPTER 25 -  
  
- Outskirts of San Francisco, That same time -  
  
A hand moved away from a simple control station. Seconds later a thunderclap was heard and a lance of energy sun bright blue/white speared down from the heavens, turning the dusk surrounding Terra's capital brighter than high noon. The initial thunderclap began to fade, but then a nearly subsonic rumble was more felt than heard. It rose in intensity and while the flashbulb like glare was beginning to subside, the destruction it had wrought was only just beginning. The initial blast wave of compressed air was billowing out from its epicenter, blowing through or knocking over anything that was in its path. The tall towers in downtown San Francisco were all gone, either shattered or toppled by the force of the initial blast. But the blast wave wasn't the most destructive offspring of the Mauler's assault.  
  
Flowing outward at a more sedate but still insanely high speed came the billowing furnace of fire and rubble. The wall of flame washed around and over buildings and structures that survived the initial blow of hurricane force winds, scorching block after block as it spread. Worse than the flames themselves was the ash and pulverized bedrock that fell around it. It was far more deadly than a volcano eruption, for the explosive force that hurled the debris high into the atmosphere had been sudden and unexpected. Splinters of granite bedrock, some as big as a Frigate sleeted back down to earth like fiery raindrops. And with them came the ash. The horrid stuff descended in an asphyxiating blanket of death all of its own. It filled everything, flowed into every opening in the shattered ruins of the Terran Empires capital city in a swirling gray snowstorm. Anyone unlucky enough to have survived the initial destruction was doomed to die more slowly as the very air itself seemed to become solid ash.  
  
And the reason it happened at all was because of one man. He stood next to the control station, starring awe at the destruction he had allowed to visit upon Terra. It was unlike anything the world had experienced since her last great war. Yet even WW III's darkest hours were but a child's tantrum compared to this. As he stared the blast wave finally struck him, its small debris and sand that it carried along with it caused his shuttle car's shield to shimmer as the banshee like winds swirled around the lone island of safety in a vast sea of destruction. But he was situated far enough away that it had already lost most of its force. And the fire storm that followed on its heels was already slowing to a crawl as the initial out gassing was replaced by air trying to flood back into the vacuum the firestorm had created. A vast column of smoke, ash, and pulverized rock and buildings reached towards the sky like a massive funeral pyre.  
  
The console at the man's side had but one purpose, to activate a small, unnoticed program in Council Tower's mainframe. At a prearranged time, it had been his job to activate it. He had pressed the activation command exactly on time and the program set about its dastardly task. Mere seconds before the Mauler device fired from orbit, the entire defensive apparatus was paralyzed and shut down by the Trojan computer virus. Normally that wouldn't have mattered, for the system automatically went into individual, secure power and computer backups within seconds should such a thing happen. But in the exquisitely precise time frame of its activation, a few seconds were all that were needed. While the shield would have barely held off the Mauler's assault, it wasn't there when it struck and thus the beam raced in as unopposed as its siblings attacking space born targets.  
  
"Oops!" Within the safety of his shield bubble, Jack Chambers spoke to himself as no one else was around to hear him.  
  
Then his neutral expression took on a very Machiavellian grin as he realized that he had actually done it. The Terran Council was gone, save for him and one other. As such, emergency powers were granted to him as one of only two political entities left to run the Empire. It would have been better if Greg Betare had been present in council as well, but his ally/superior from the Orion Cartel had said that it wasn't currently necessary to have him eliminated. He had merely shrugged. The plan was a sound one and he knew that his tidy little piece of acting these last few months in Council sessions should put him above suspicion. After all, who would suspect that the one who most vehemently wanted to attack the rumblings in the outer territories was also in league with them.  
  
- Sector Capital Qo'noS, Former Klingon Empire Space, That same time -  
  
Mechanical muscles whined quietly as the ranks of battle armored troops walked out of the Planetary Palace. Once they reached the edge of the structures canopy shield, they stepped into the normal light drizzle that seemed to be Qo'noS' only weather capability. The building itself was the most heavily fortified one in all of Qo'noS, and its majesty was highlighted only by the pale moonlight cast by Praxis as it peeked through the odd break in the cloud cover. Why were lights needed in the middle of the night when there were various forms of power armor mounted sensors that worked far better than the Mk One Eyeball in the dark. It was situated on top of a small hill, and for over 400 feet in every direction the ground was thoroughly cleared of any thing that could be used for cover. The nearly invisible beams of the Tachyon Detection Grid crisscrossed the entire distance between the foliage and the walls of the complex. They were also placed at hidden locations throughout the surrounding forest for quite a few square kilometers. Nothing would be sneaking up on this installation. Not that all of the elaborate defenses hadn't stopped the more stubborn of the local inhabitants from trying every once and a while. The Governor's security commandant could only shake his head. It would take both a heck of a lot of modern equipment and even more manpower to crack this building's security. And it was all to protect one man. He was the representative of the sector's Council Member while she was away on Terra. As such, he enjoyed freedom and privilege almost as great as her own, and he exercised it every chance he got. His late night. 'parties'. were sometimes quiet raucous. But Commandant Peter Issard didn't worry about that. It was a suggestion that the Governor rein in his habits and urges that had gotten the previous Commandant demoted all the way down to Private and ten hours in the agonizer. As such, Peter knew better than to question the Governor.  
  
Peter sighed as he watched the troops warped in the equivalent of a pre WW III main battle tank stalk out into the woods. Seconds later, the watch that they had relived came back towards the palace. His ever-present data monocle showed each individual's status, as well as that of his armor and systems, as they entered its field of view. Part of him longed for the time when power armor wasn't needed, but he knew that those days were long since past. With the destructiveness of modern hand weapons, an unarmored human didn't last very long on the current battlefield. And even now, the current generation of power armor had yet to advance beyond the current crop of new heavy weaponry. The new weapons had been developed primarily to attack and defend against the Borg, but they were just as deadly, if not more so, vs. other threats. Weapons like the PPHC, a large rifle that housed a scaled down pulse phaser cannon that was nearly ¾ as destructive as its larger cousin mounted on starships. Then there was the new projectile rifles. While the latest versions of the phaser rifle and hand phasers could automodulate to overcome Borg defenses, they were still not as effective as solid weaponry. Old fashioned bladed weapons had made a great resurgence from the dustbin of history during the early days of the Borg/Imperial war, and with a little modern tweaking they could be made strong and sharp enough the cut most anything. But they required the wielder to get up close and personal with a Borg drone, and with their introduction of assimilation tubules during what was known as the Great Adaptation Offensive that became a very bad thing to do if it could be helped. Since a drone's shields could be penetrated by physical objects, but could eventually adapt to energy weapons, Imperial R&D had set about to build the ultimate combat rifle.  
  
The end result had been dubbed the grav gun. It was basically a rail gun in premise, but it used the same tech that allowed for artificial gravity to pull the bullet along instead of having it pushed by magnetic fields. As a result, the bullet could reach speeds in excess of Mach 11 when it left the barrel. Their were three settings for the weapon, armor piercing seeking bullets, high explosive seeking bullets, and a futuristic shotgun like flechette launcher. The seeking bullets enabled radically off bore attacks at the expense of accuracy and velocity. There was only so much current level Imperial tech could do with a bullet the size of a persons pinky finger that mounted both impulse thrusters, sensors and a crude but effective computer to think for it all it. The AP variety housed only a tiny amount of explosive, and it was only used if the target's armor couldn't be penetrated, otherwise it just bulled its way though leaving a rather large exit wound. The HE round held a tiny amount of matter/antimatter explosive in a similar configuration to a photon torp. Once it came in contact with a target, the matter and antimatter met and blew the target apart. The ensuing small fireball usually took out multiple unarmored targets. The flechette option was truly deadly against unarmored small clusters of individuals. Hundreds of alloy slivers erupted out of the barrel with each shot, and at 11 times the speed of sound the level of destruction against soft tissue and even bone was astounding.  
  
Peter shook his head to clear away the images that sprang into his mind. He had seen firsthand what a grav gun could do and it wasn't pretty. Slowly, he made his way away from the window towards his bed. He only hoped that he would sleep soundly, for he knew that the nightmares would come again.  
  
- Hillside overlooking the Planetary Palace of Qo,noS, That same time -  
  
A lone figure, sheathed in a slightly different set of power armor stared through an old fashioned pair of binoculars. While his armor was currently unpowered, it had its governors off so its joints could move freely. No electronic devices were active on either him or his squad, but they could be at an instant. The binoculars told him that the guard change had occurred precisely on schedule. It was his teams job to secure the Governor once his and the other teams had breached the palaces security. And if everything else went according to plan, the Governor would have no place to escape to, and no reinforcements would be coming from elsewhere on Qo'noS. The Klingon warrior smiled a tooth filled smile that was hidden by his armor's helmet. Soon the Klingon Empire would be reborn, and his squad would have the pleasure of seeing the Governor's face when he figured it out. If not, then they would be in Sto-Vo-Kor with the honored dead and the privilege of executing the Terran Empire's Governor would fall to another group of warriors. Today was a good day to die! 


	28. Chapter 26

- CHAPTER 26 -  
  
- ICS Pearl Harbor, Terra Orbit -  
  
Korath cheered along with the ecstatic howls of the rest of his crew. San Francisco was gone, the massive cloud of debris that now hung over the sight was slowly expanding to cover most of California. The ash would cover most of the surrounding states in a thick blanket. Best of all, that single blow had loped off the head of the beast. The Terran Empire was now leaderless, its political rulers gone in a single strike. The crew went on cheering, but Korath didn't continue his own. He new what would happen next. The Terran Empire rarely took prisoners, and Korath had a suspicion that First Fleet and Sol Orbital Command wouldn't be in a very charitable mood. His Maulers were powering up their capacitors for another strike, but it was not one they would have time to complete.  
  
Despite their shock, Terra's network of battle stations and OWPs was coming online faster than his weapons were recharging. Worse, all nearby starships of First Fleet were converging on the deployed Maulers, and by association the Pearl Harbor as well. Targeting systems lashed out, locking up the now blatant weapons signatures the Maulers were producing. They mounted no defense other than their standard duranium cargo shells, and enough firepower to turn a Super Dreadnought to expanding plasma smashed into the fragile weapons. Then it was the Pearl's turn. No less than five surviving battle stations, 20 OWP's, one Wraith, four Sovereigns, six Galaxies and fifteen Defiants opened fire as one. Korath had barely begun his death howl when a mountain of crisscrossing phasers and quantum torpedoes vaporized his command and its crew.  
  
- Alliance Staging Area 550, Near former Cardassian space -  
  
The massive Hutets hung in space surrounded by the rest of their attached fleets. Small Hideki frigates swarmed and darted among their larger brethren. Legates, Rasilaks, Sartans, Galors and Keldons formed up into their assigned wings in preparation to move out. With them were small contingents of Klingon, Romulan, Gorn, Breen, Mirak and Lyran vessels. Every member of the alliance, while primarily concentrating on liberating their own homeworlds, had sent contingents to all fronts. The show of solidarity was reassuring, and their added firepower made up for that which the Cardassian fleet had given up to the other fronts of the coming offensive. On board CSS Hutet, Legate Dukat prowled his flagship's flag bridge restlessly.  
  
"Does something bother you Legate?" Elim Garak, Cardassia's head of black ops queried.  
  
"Is the Obsidian Order positive that this fleet will be enough to liberate our homeland? I would hate to travel all the way to what used to be Cardassia Prime and find it insufficient to remove the Terrans from the system."  
  
"Rest easy Dukat, for not only the Obsidian Order but the Romulan Tal Shiar, the Klingon Black Fleet, the Breen Special Ops Division, the Gorn, Mirak and Lyran intelligence communities all concur that this fleet is sufficient to retake our empire. But better still is the new weapon that the Breen contingent carries. It is said to be able to totally disable a ship with a single shot. This means that we will have no trouble retaking Cardassia. It is to bad that the Terrans used a Genesis warhead on them. All of its cities and plants and animal life has been reworked by that dastardly device into copies of Terran plants and animals. But I suppose that with a little genetic modification, we should be able to make it nearly like it was before within about 10 years. Dukat growled and scowled at Garak, for he hated being reminded of what had befallen the Cardassian Union at the Terran Empire's hand.  
  
"Order the fleet to move out. To Cardassia and Victory!"  
  
"At once sir."  
  
The massive formation of ships that the secret Orion Cartel shipyards had been turning out for the various Alliance governments over the last few years started into motion. The sheer size of the armada made it ungainly, but the upcoming battle didn't require fine control and maneuver on a fleet wide basis. Once the battle was joined, the fleet should have an easy time of it, and individual squadrons could maneuver as they pleased as they pursued the enemy. The interlocked computer nets of the ships would prioritize targets and make sure that they were evenly assigned. That particular system was almost a direct copy of the standard Imperial one, provided like nearly everything else by the Orion Cartel. The one thing it couldn't provide was crews, but in various skirmishes with Imperial ships over the last couple of years, the Cardassian Union, like all of the Alliance, had gained much needed battle experience. While that counted for a lot, the entire Alliance was hungry, nay ravenous for revenge. And a people with a desire for revenge and the tools to obtain it were the most dangerous foes in the galaxy.  
  
The primarily Cardassian fleet wasn't alone in its initial moves either, for across the Alpha and Beta quadrants, vast fleets of formerly hidden vessels moved into the depths of space towards their destinations. Vast swarms of Warbirds and Shadows went out towards Romulus. Klingon Negh'Vars and Vor'chas headed towards Qo'noS. Breen, Gorn, Lyran and Mirak fleets were on the move into what was once their space, and soon would be again. Fleets bigger than any the respective empire's had possessed before being overrun by the Terrans left their hidden rally points under cloak to delay any Imperial detection for as long as possible. They would still be detected short of their targets, but that was planned for. Heck it was even welcomed, for it should prove easy to lure the enemies mobile defenses away from his fixed ones, enabling both to be defeated in detail far easier than would otherwise be the case.  
  
- Alliance Station 338, Orouke Nebula, Near the Former Border of Lyran Space -  
  
The Great Fang of the Emperor, High Admiral Zathoran strode into the cavernous shuttle deck of Alliance Station 338 and approached the small podium at the head of the assembly. He wore the ornate jeweled black leather harness and green fringed black cloak of his rank. They accentuated his emerald green feline eyes and midnight black pelt that had not yet begun to turn gray. He turned to the vast, arrow straight ranks of assembled officers, his eyes sweeping across them, pausing imperceptibly on his son and warm satisfaction filled him. His son's perpetually spotless uniform was polished to an even greater sheen than normal. The black leather was so buffed you could almost see oneself in it, and the golden bright work gleamed in the bright overhead light of the shuttle hangar. While he would always be his little cub in Zathran's eyes, he was turning into a talented officer in his own right. While Zathran was still young, having just made captain in the hidden navy the Lyran people had built up with the Orion Cartel's help, he had handily won his first engagement as Captain. He would win still more battles in the coming offensive, of that old Zathoran was sure.  
  
While there were a lot of officers assembled in the cavernous shuttle deck of Station 338, there wasn't as many as their could have been if they had been crowded in like Terrans were apt to do. But your average Lyran would never pack in together that densely if they could help it. While ancient man had hunted in packs and learned to work in close proximity to each other, Lyrans were different. While they to had learned to work in packs for hunting, they remained largely individuals, and were extremely uncomfortable when other beings entered their personal space. Just the same, they were packed in uncomfortably close to hear their High Admirals message. Today they would strike back and reclaim their homeland.  
  
"Fellow Lyrans, today we take back what is ours. Today we take back not only our freedom, but our honor as well!" A growl of agreement swept the assembly. While all of the original 21 Lyran counties were represented in the large group, they showed none of the usual small spats between different counties that usually marked such occasions. Today, they were united as never before, and Zathoran was forced to admit to himself, unfortunately would not likely be seen again afterward. He feared that once the Terran Empire had been forced from Lyran space, the 21 counties would all to soon fall into the same patterns of inter county squabbling that had always held back his people in the past. While the current armistice with the Mirak was also beneficial, Zathoran feared that it to would soon end after the Terrans were forced out. The blood feud between the Lyran and Mirak peoples had gone on for to long, causing to much suffering on both sides to allow them to forgive each other. Sooner or later, hostilities would again erupt between the two empires, again keeping them weak and open for foreign exploitation.  
  
Perhaps he was just getting old, Zathoran thought to himself, perhaps his blood didn't boil with the fire of youth any more. But, he thought, that means that it doesn't cloud my judgement as much either. Oh how powerful we could become if we just cast aside our petty squabbling. All I need to do is look at the current assembly to se how glorious we can be when united.  
  
"United as never before we say with one voice, no more! No more shall we allow our mothers and cubs to be driven into slavery by Terrans. No more shall we be put up on display like an exotic animal for Terran's amusement. No more shall we allow our honor to lie in the filth while we sit back, powerless to stop the Terrans. NO MORE!" Another growl went through the crowd, and sets of ears laid back in anger. The musk of anger filled the bay and Zathoran's pink tongue flicked out to wash the harsh sent from his ebony nose. "Know this pack brothers and sisters, there is but one possible conclusion to this fight. Today we shall strike, strike hard, and we shall WIN!" The Lyran battle cry, which humans found a blood curdling amalgam of Terran bagpipes, growls and hisses rolled up from the officer's throats. 


	29. Chapter 27

- CHAPTER 27 -  
  
- Captain Zathran's Quarters Onboard Alliance Station 338, 20 minutes later -  
  
The quarter's door opened to admit the young Lyran officer. Staring out the room's large window was the human prisoner he was honor bound to protect. Dorothy Chambers wore not the black and silver of the Imperial Starfleet, but a simple yet elegant dress of golden yellow. It had been simple enough to arrange quite a selection of clothing for her, as Lyran space was a Terran domain and had been such for close to 107 years. Most of the Terran clothing available locally was manufactured either by replicator or was hand made by Lyran slaves. The handmade variety was considerably more expensive than the replicated clothing, and was always in demand on the more cosmopolitan Terran worlds.  
  
"Milady." Zathran's cat fight set to bagpipes speech was converted to a deep base voice by Dorothy's universal translator.  
  
"Don't Milady me buster!" She said as she turned on him. "First you bust up my ship, then you hold me here against my will, and your ships, heck this station as well, are all death sentences to any found on them. You should know that much at least. Destroying Imperial property is also punishable by death. Physically handling a Terran without their consent can get you seven hours in an agonizer. I've lost track of just how many rules you have broken!" Dorothy said as she closed to within a few feet of the Lyran, her fisted hands digging into her hips. "You should give me up now, heck I'll even throw in a good word for you that may spare your family the same fate that awaits you." It occurred to Dorothy that taking the antagonistic path might not be the best way to make friends, but there was nothing in her training that had prepared her for the aftermath of being ambushed. This sector of Terran space was supposed to be totally docile and under control. Its natives weren't supposed to possess tech that would let them beat a modern Imperial patrol ship. Yet no one had apparently informed the natives of what they were supposed to have. They had a formidable force stationed at this base, and while she would have loved to believe that it was the only one, the officer in her said otherwise. This base, large though it was, wasn't the rebel's main center. There were far to many escort and light units transiting past her view port. While they could only have light units in their hidden fleet, their proportions weren't jiving with what a guerilla force would field. These ships looked more like the screen for a much heavier contingent of capital ships.  
  
All of this posed a quandary to everything she had come to believe and cherish. She had been raised as the stereotypical spoiled daughter of a powerful political family. Heck before her father had taken a seat on the Terran Council, he had been head of Section 31. That gave him an even larger power base than many of the other Councilors had, and he had used it as much as possible to benefit himself and his family. As a result of this, Dorothy was both used to getting things done her way and when she wanted them done. She was also largely blind to the realities of the universe. While she heard of the occasional cowardly raid by conquered alien species on Terrans, she had never truly realized just what that had meant. Seeing this base and its attached fleet, she was beginning to suspect that official sources were nearly as far off from the reality as she had been. This shattering of her carefully enshrined belief that the Terran Empire was all seeing and all knowing was what drove her to the offensive. That was nearly the only way she knew how to tackle a problem, attack it head on with as much force as possible. And it gave her an easy way to cover up the stark terror that she was feeling at being captured by hostile and powerful aliens.  
  
Zathran chuffed in soft laughter. The sight of a small, unarmed Terran facing down a seven foot tall, adult Lyran who was also highly skilled in unarmed combat (if you could ever call a Lyran equipped with natural finger length claws and a carnivores jaw and teeth unarmed) was just so ludicrous that he couldn't help himself. His nose told him the true reason behind this outburst, for despite never letting it show on her face, he could smell her terror plain as day. "Milady, why do you persist in making idle threats? It is neither I nor my kin are the prisoner here, it is you who is captured. As such, you cannot make any demands of us about Terran law. Besides soon Terran law in this area of space won't matter much. If all goes well, you will most likely be returned to your people after the end of hostilities. If not, you will prove a valuable bargaining piece between my peoples and yours. It is not every day that a cub of a Council member is delivered to us as you were."  
  
Thank God for that, Dorothy thought, for if it was, there wouldn't be much of the Empire left. But did the kitties have enough fire power to remove the Terrans from their space? They certainly seemed confident in said ability, but many an army had ridden off to utter destruction confident in their ability to defeat their opponent. "But."  
  
"Enough!" Zathran snarled, putting just enough menace in his tone and posture to close her latest retort with a snapping jaw. All defiance seemed to drain out of Dorothy and she wilted before him. "I have not the time to waste it here arguing with you. Your fate will be decided one way or the other today. I have come only to warn you. If you attempt to leave this room, you will be killed. Do you doubt me? Merely look back at what your people have done to we Lyrans. There are untold numbers of us on this station that wouldn't hesitate to kill a Terran. You must stay here if you want to remain safe. Everything you need you can get from the replicator. I have had an engineer reprogram it to accept input in English. I must go now, but I say again, remain here for your own safety." Then he turned on his heel and left his quarters. He truly hoped that Miss Chambers would stay in her quarters, for what he had told her was mostly true. There were many Lyrans that would indeed not hesitate nor bat an eye at killing a Terran if one was within their reach. Then he shook off his worries about his charge. His personal guard had been stationed outside the door and the emergency access and maintenance shafts leading from the room had been sealed with a plasma welder. She would be safe enough till his victorious return, and he needed his mind focused on the upcoming battle. 


	30. Chapter 28

- CHAPTER 28 -  
  
- Alliance Station 338, The Hallway Outside Zathran's Quarters -  
  
Zathran strode down the hall towards his waiting ship, yet he couldn't get rid of the niggling doubts whispering in the back of his brain. Would the Terran be truly safe here on the station? It wasn't that he had any particular liking for her as an individual or even for her species in general, it was just that Lyran's complex code of honor demanded that he make every effort to protect a high ranking captured enemy from harm while under his protection. Part of him would have liked nothing better than to cut her throat open from ear to ear in a single strike, but it was a small part that he held in tight control. Dorothy Chambers was basically the equivalent to a Lyran crown princess and since she had been taken captive alive, and it was an officer from his ships boarding party that took her, it became his duty to ensure her safety. If she had even been a member of the hated Mirak Patriarch's family, he would have been duty bound to protect her well being until the Emperor decided what her fate was to be.  
  
Yet Zathran could think of nothing more he could do to protect her. The door was sealed to open only to his families or a member of the Royal Family's scent, and a squad of his most trusted and competent marines also guarded it. Unless she managed to jimmy open the door from the inside, she would be safe. Zathran just hoped that it would be enough, for it would be a terrible stain on both his personal and his family's honor if even this Terran Starfleet scum came to harm while under his protection.  
  
- ISS Athena, On Station Near The Borg Portal, former Borg system of A875 34B9 -  
  
Fleet Admiral T'var looked out at the massive swirling maelstrom of the Borg Portal. There was something almost hauntingly beautiful in its sickly green depths. The holo generators that surrounded the Athena's Flag Bridge presented the sight in very fine detail, and the Athena's computer gave a running tally along side the portal of its power output, defensive systems status, offensive systems status, and hull and shield strength. Right now most of those were at normal operating parameters or nonexistent due to the damage the structure had sustained. The massive ring like shape of it had vast gouges and even whole sections missing from its structure. It was quite literally a miracle that the monstrosity was even able to hold together, let alone remain in operation. It was a true testament to Borg construction, which had made their ships so hard to destroy during the Borg/Imperial war. And nor was it alone in being the Borg's last remaining foothold in the system, for a large portion of 2nd Fleet's crews were "fast grown" in a former Borg maturation chamber.  
  
T'var was a Vulcan, and could control her feelings just as good as any other of her race. But something ancient and feral cried out at seeing the vacant expressions on the mildly modified, at least externally, personnel that Starfleet Command had forced upon the entire Fleet as replacements for lost crewmen. Although they could do their assigned jobs almost as well as a normal being, they were virtually oblivious to anything going on outside their duties. She had tried to initiate conversations with them, but she had used holodeck characters that were more interactive and mentally there than the new 'Imp Drones' as the normal crew had christened them. And they moved and acted a heck of a lot more like Borg drones than normal individuals ever would. It was all set up to creep out normal crew and officers, but the real kicker was that the Imp drones were both to simple minded and limited mentally to even begin to comprehend both their own limitations and the effect their mere presence had on their normal crewmates.  
  
She looked out through the slightly transparent holo display that enfolded her command chair like an endless, unbroken 360 degree window to the vastness of space beyond. She could make out enough of the reality beyond the holo display to identify the stations that ringed the Athena's Flag Bridge. Over 40 % of them were staffed by an Imp drone instead of a normal individual. Yet there was nothing she could do, for despite her best efforts, there was nothing about their on the job performance that she could actually call them on. In fact, they did their duties better and more precisely than their normally trained crewmates. While the Vulcan in her found that pleasing, it didn't outweigh their off duty activities, or lack there of, as well as their affect on the non Imp drone portion of 2nd Fleet's crew.  
  
"Admiral, there are vessels transiting the Borg portal." It was spooky. A normal human crewman would have shown at least a little bit of emotion at the unexpected arrival of ships through the portal. But the Imp drone merely passed on the information in a near monotone voice, showing no sign of anxiety or concern at all. But T'var pushed all worries about the Empires new great experiments aside as she swung her chair around to stare directly at the Borg complex. The high definition holo projection showed a quartet of Imperial vessels transiting the portal. Their ident codes were verified and fresh info on them flashed up along side the computer generated targeting brackets of allied blue. Beside them, stats and titles appeared, and various sections of the new Imperial ships were highlighted in pale crimson of severe damage. The computer labeled them as the Akira class ISS Battle Born, the Intrepid class ISS Rage and two Sabers, the ISS Repulse and Indigo. Despite maintaining the classic Vulcan appearance of unconcern, her green blood turned to ice in her veins. She hoped that these were only the cripples from Chriton's first engagement with the new enemy, known by the Borg as Species 8472. But she had seen the highly classified records on just how powerful they could be, and a sinking sensation formed in the pit of her stomach as her traitorous brain shouted that these might very well be all that was left of Chriton's fleet. Then she had another, more terrifying thought. What if Species 8472 was following the four survivors and was even now preparing to transit the portal? 2nd Fleet's reinforcements were on their way, but they were still at least an hour and a half out at high slipstream drive. If her suspicions proved true she would need those ships very shortly.  
  
The 25 Ark Royal class Fleet Carriers, 6 Wraith class Dreadnoughts, 40 Achilles PD/Heavy Cruisers, 30 Prometheus class Fast Attack Cruisers, 10 Sovereign class Battleships, 15 Galaxy class Battlecruisers, 30 Nebula class Light Battlecruisers of various subclasses, 10 Aegean class Fleet Support Destroyers, 15 Steamrunner class Cruisers, 10 Intrepid class Cruisers, 35 Defiant class Destroyers, 10 Nova class Destroyers, and 200 of the new Soulwolf class Heavy Destroyers would have made her a heck of a lot more confident that she could win an engagement with the kind of firepower Species 8472's living warships were able to throw around. She especially missed the capital ships, carriers and the Soulwolf's that had been on detached duty when the call had come down to proceed here post haste. There hadn't been time to call them back to rejoin 2nd Fleet, so they had instead slip jumped here on their own to rejoin with their parent fleet before the battle was joined with the new enemy. But that entire plan had been sent into chaos with Chriton's unbelievable decision to advance on the enemy before proper reinforcement was on hand. They were now coming in hell bent for leather, but they wouldn't make it in time to provide any support for 2nd Fleet in the coming engagement. 


	31. Chapter 29

- CHAPTER 29 -  
  
- Wraith class ISS Iowa, Flagship of 2nd Fleet Battle Group B, enroute to rendezvous with the main body of 2nd Fleet -  
  
Admiral Jefferson Clark sat serenely in his chair on the Iowa's Flag Bridge. It had undergone an upgrade to the Bastion class Flag Bridge standard during her recent refit. Clark was amazed by the tremendous increase in battlefield awareness it gave a flag officer. Instead of just a single main viewer that had had to suffice during major fleet engagements, the new system of holo emitters being imbedded in the bulkheads of the bridge allowed for a 360 degree panoramic view of the surrounding space. Ships, both enemy and friendly alike, could be queried as to their status in a mere glance instead of having to sift through a large listing on a LCARS panel. When the system was active in the midst of a battle, it was almost like one was in an EVA suit with the various ships swarming around, throwing their exceedingly deadly weaponry at each other in a precisely choreographed dance of destruction. Giving direction to that dance was made all the easier by the new view system.  
  
Right now, it showed the ranks of Imperial warships flying in precise formation through the swirling aqua blue vortex of slipstream. Even the fact that they was nothing to call any officer under him on couldn't bring down his spirits. What more could a warrior and defender of the Empire desire than to be in command of such a vast array of power and might as it flew towards the enemy. It was truly an inspiring sight, one that never failed to fill him with child like wonder. But he could also be like a child playing with ants when it came to his underlings. He tolerated absolutely no errors, allowed absolutely no deviation from his assigned plans. Nearly all of his inferiors had spent time in the agonizer due to their failure or the failures of their own subordinates. Clark's methods, though they may not have won him much support or loyalty, did ensure that nearly no single mistake was ever repeated. And since he had nothing to call any of the rest of the Battle Group on at the moment, he lounged in his luxuriously appointed and upholstered chair with a Cheshire smile on his face.  
  
"Admiral, we have a message incoming from the Athena. It's Fleet Admiral T'var Sir." The Iowa's duty com officer said, merely a vague outline through the semi transparent holo display. Jefferson sat a little straighter in his chair, for as hard as he was on his subordinates, he very nearly fawned over his superiors. In 2nd Fleet, that meant Fleet Admiral T'var, and he had developed a case of near hero worship towards her during his time under her command. He brushed an imaginary piece of lint from his immaculate white and gold uniform, then turned towards the com officer.  
  
"Put her through Ensign." The ghostly shape moved slightly as the Ensign entered the necessary commands onto his console. The bridge speakers chimed as a mid sized com window opened up on the holo display in front of Jefferson.  
  
"Admiral Clark," T'var's impassive Vulcan face appeared in the window, "I am afraid that I have some bad news to convey. It would appear that Admiral Chriton has lost nearly his entire command, and that the new enemy of the Empire, Species 8472, is about to follow the remnants of his fleet back into A875 34B9." That brought a frown to Clark's face before he could hide it behind his usual poker face. If their ready forces were powerful enough to destroy 24th Fleet so rapidly, that meant that they could at least give 2nd Fleet as it constituted currently a good run for their money in a stand up fight. "Although I could withdraw from the Borg Portal, conceding the system to the enemy until we could destroy them without pause, it would also enable them to bring forth still more of their own forces. And I wouldn't want to let the kind of firepower they can bring to bear into our neck of the woods if I can help it."  
  
That also brought a frown, a concerned one, to Clark's face. What exactly was Fleet Admiral T'var planning on doing then if she didn't intend to withdraw? Like all senior Flag officers assigned to this operation, he had been shown the recovered Borg record of what had happened to their expeditionary force that had been sent through the portal. That had been years ago, even before the Terran/Borg war began. Lord only knew just what they had developed in the intervening years as a result of the Borg letting them know that there were powerful threats to their existence. Of course, that assumed that they saw the Borg as a powerful threat, which was shrouded in doubt due to the very fact that their weapons had decimated the initial waves of Cubes with mind numbing rapidity. T'var continued and Clark again pushed his thoughts aside as he listened to his CO.  
  
"As such, I have decided to engage the enemy here, near the portal. Even now engineering teams are racing to deactivate the portal. But because of its very nature, my people tell me that it draws a portion of its power from subspace itself. As a result, you can't simply shut it off and it closes immediately. It takes the better part of three hours for it to finally power down and close itself. That means that we must hold the enemy here for at least that long in order to ensure that further hostile vessels do not break out into the rest of the Galaxy. I am changing your orders Admiral. Your ships are to proceed at flank speed, without regard for Battle Group cohesion, to rendezvous here as rapidly as possible." Overcoming his initial shock at her decision, Clark nodded to the pickup.  
  
"I understand sir. The BG execute your orders immediately."  
  
"Thank you Jefferson." Clark blinked in astonishment at her use of his first name. It was something she had never done before in all the years he had been her second in command of 2nd Fleet. "T'var out." And then she was gone, leaving Jefferson to carryout what may very well become her final orders to him. He quickly turned and began snapping orders. Soon, the more modern vessels in the Battle Group began to streak ahead, leaving their slower counterparts behind. The Soulwolf's and Wraith's, being the fastest in slipstream took the lead, followed closely by the Achilles' class Cruisers. The ancient Ark Royal's lagged behind everything else. Their design heralded back to the time when the Constitution was Queen of the battlefield, and most were over 125 years old. Refits and upgrades could only do so much to the ancient carriers, but while Bu Ships scrambled to build a modern equivalent for them they were the heaviest carriers the Terran Empire possessed. As such, when the fighter again came in vogue, the old girls had been brought out of mothballs till a younger, sleeker version of themselves could be brought into production. The other ships of the BG accelerated to their highest slipstream velocity, stringing out the formation as their various different speeds carried them away from each other in their headlong rush to rejoin their comrades in 2nd Fleet proper.  
  
- Borg System A875 34B9 -  
  
The phase cloaked vessel ghosted insystem. Not a trace of her passage was visible on any known normal space sensor systems, but her Captain wasn't taking any chances. The ship was only moving at ¼ impulse power, and was under strict EMCON even while hidden behind her phase cloak. Her mission was known only to a very few, and most of those were now dead due to "accidents" or "natural causes" in order to keep the total number who knew of her mission even lower than would normally be the case. Her Captain didn't know why he had been ordered to do what he was about to do, but he would follow his orders just the same. You either followed orders in his line of work, or you and your family were discretely or not so discretely eliminated. He knew because he had done so to others who didn't follow orders. He glanced down to a seemingly out of place panel on the cramped bridge of his hidden vessel. It glowed the steady green of readiness, and the distance reading on it was slowly counting down to zero. The Captain turned his attention back to the main viewer, watching as the massive fleet of Imperial vessels swelled larger as he approached. They were back light by an even more massive, Borgish looking ring structure, from the center of which hung a swirling vortex of a hideous shade of yellow green. The Captain shook his head thinking what a waste of powerful ships and trained personnel this was going to be.  
  
- Wreck of the ISS Hopolite, Main Bridge -  
  
Cmdr Clay Heidberg finished climbing out of the now dead turbolift shaft. He thanked whoever the engineer was that had stuck a ladder in the shafts, because without it his trip from what was left of main engineering would have been more indirect and cramped due to his having to use a jeferies tube. He came out onto the shambles of the Hopolite's bridge just as Lt. Cmdr. Percy Davenport shouted his warning. Along with everyone else on the bridge, they all looked towards the slightly static filled main viewer as a quartet of Imperial vessels made transit through the Borg portal. Two were mangled wrecks trailing drive plasma like blood while the other two were heavily damaged. Nearly immediately a mayday came over the speakers.  
  
"ISS Battle Born to any Terran Empire vessel, we are in immediate need of assistance. There is a large hostile force not far behind us. It is imperative that the portal be shut down immediately!"  
  
"Understood Battle Born, an engineering team is being dispatched now to cut power to the system. There is also teams being dispatched to your vessels to conduct emergency repairs and help in the transfer of wounded. Hold station, help is on the way, T'var out." On the main viewer, some of 2nd Fleets warships broke formation to englobe their wounded comrades. Time seemed to crawl by. In fact it seemed as if the Hopolite was all but forgotten about. Ulysses could live with that. His own wounded and nonessential personnel had already beamed out, so he wasn't about to grant those four battered ships the same treatment. Still, with all of the transport capacity 2nd Fleet had available, shouldn't someone have notified them to ready for beam out? Ulysses was just about to activate a com channel to the flagship when there was a gasp from tactical. On screen, where there had only been the Borg portal and 2nd Fleet mere seconds before, there was a steadily growing swarm of spindle shaped brown and yellow craft. But unlike the command staff of the Hopolite, the rest of the Fleet was still in the tactical data net, and it reacted nearly instantly to Fleet Admiral T'var's standing orders. Nearby ships stabbed at the four survivors from Chriton's battle line with their tractors, and with the Hopolite still nestled in the Athena's tractor beam, the entire fleet stuttered their slip drives to snap to the prearranged rally point farther out from the portal. This took them outside weapons range and gave them time to organize into the proper attack formation. Just the same, more and more enemy craft poured from the portal like a swarm of bees whose hive had been disturbed.  
  
"Much as it pains me to say it, I think now would be a good time to get the heck off of this derelict and onto something a little more sturdy, like say the Athena?" Cmdr Heidberg said. Ulysses looked at him, shuddered as if clearing away a bad dream, then nodded and reached for his communicator. 


	32. Chapter 30

- CHAPTER 30 -  
  
- Flag Bridge, ISS Athena, that same time -  
  
T'var had completed her communiqué to the still returning arm of 2nd Fleet, Battle Group B, not even a minute before when Species 8472 bioships began to spew from the portal. She had had even less time than she thought, but even that didn't change the plan. 2nd Fleet would hold the enemy here till the portal closed, or they would die taking as many of their living warships with them as they could. It would at least help the follow on fleets that would inevitably root them out, but it didn't place much chance on 2nd Fleet's survival. Vessel after vessel piled through the slowly weakening portal. When the last one came through, there were nearly as many enemy vessels in the system as there were Imperial ones. And those of the enemy had both more powerful main weaponry than most of 2nd Fleet, they also were considerably tougher targets to boot. The organism that made up the lions share of a Species 8472 vessel was highly resistant to standard phaser strikes, healing itself with stunning rapidity after every hit, so that it could accept a lot more punishment than a comparable Imperial vessel. Worse still, there were previously unknown bioship classes present in the S-8472 fleet. One was nearly the same size as the Athena herself, though only in general dimensions, not in volume. Three shafts extended from that ship like three desiccated fingers, making up nearly 2/3s the ships total size. They three were attached to a rear section that held a lot of design similarities with the standard bio battleship rear hull, only on a larger scale. Taken together, the ship looked like a giant talon mounted on ribbed wings, ready to crush any starship who dared to mess with it. Fortunately it wasn't all bad news, for the massive ship seemed to be even clumsier on its helm than a standard Bastion class was, and with the Athena's STL drive upgrade, she could handily run circles around it any day of the week.  
  
Without her noticing it, Corval had slunk up onto the platform beside her. It was almost like he was trying to hide from the fleet that seemed to hang within hands reach in front of him He was shuddering slightly, and had his hands clasped around his head as if trying to hold it from falling apart and his eyes tightly shut as if in pain. Sweat beaded on his brow, and collected along his cranial ridges. His normally pale skin was now even more lacking in color, making the pitiful experiment look like death warmed over. He forced out a stuttering whisper.  
  
"Iiii c.can HEAR themmm! The.they sssay the wweakk ssshhaallll perissshhh!" With as much emotion as she had ever let slip past her shield of logic and iron self-control, T'var reached out and placed a steadying hand on Corval's wrinkled tunic clad shoulder. There was a slight frown on her usually impassive face, and genuine concern sparked in her eyes. She sent as much support to him as she could telepathically, trying to strengthen his weakening mind shields. While she herself couldn't hear their evidently telepathic siren song, she also wasn't nearly as powerful of a mind as he was, so it was entirely possible that she never would hear their "voice" either.  
  
"Be strong Corval, feel my strength flow through you, reinforcing your defenses." Even as she spoke it seemed to have an effect, for he lowered his hands, opened his eyes and stood slightly straighter.  
  
"Thankkk you A..Admiiiirrralll!" A child like grin creased his face and T'var's heart warmed at the thought that she had been successful in easing his pain. There was still a slight wince as the telepathic assault by Species 8472, but he now seemed capable of holding it at bay. That little job done, T'var turned towards the projected enemy fleet. She extended a gauntleted hand which caused a targeting recticle to appear on the holo display. She moved her hand till the recticle was centered over the massive enemy vessel, then closed it into a fist. Its crimson bracket changed to the thicker crimson and orange of a primary target. Then she moved the recticle over a nearby finned spindle of an enemy Battleship. She clenched her fist again and spoke  
  
"Designate all ships of same class as secondary targets." The computer pulled in all available sensor data and matched it with records from CIC, and within a second all other enemy Battleships present in A875 34B9 were bracketed in narrow red and orange. They would appear as such on the main viewers of every starship in 2nd Fleet, and once the battle was joined, the Fleet Battle Net would ensure that each enemy got its fair share of attention. While it would most likely be necessary to engage enemy vessels with entire wings of Imperial ships, Battle Net should ensure that three wings weren't chasing the same ship while two others were left to their own devices.  
  
"Engage Ablative Armor Generators. Tell the Aegeans to power up their shield enhancers. Launch the fighters. Wing Commanders discretion as to targets after it is destroyed. It's also the priority of the rest of the fleet as well. Then we move on to their battleships. Give me a Fleet wide address."  
  
"Done Admiral."  
  
"Second fleet, you all know your missions, and you all know what is required of you. Today we face an enemy that is more dangerous to the Empire than even the Borg. Where the Borg merely sought to enslave us into their collective, these beings would be perfectly willing to burn every life-bearing world in the galaxy to ashes. They say that the weak shall perish. They have yet to encounter an unshaken Imperial Fleet that is in full readiness for them. When they do, they will indeed find out who is weak and who isn't. For the Glory of the Empire. T'var out." She turned to the slightly slumped Romulan behind her.  
  
"Mr. Corval, would you be so kind as to do your thing on the enemy flag ship?"  
  
"Yess Adddmiralll." The air seemed to crackle around Corval as the multitudinous safety locks and blocking mechanisms fell away and the full, blinding telepathic power erupted out like a raging torrent that had broken through a dam. With her own telepathic abilities, T'var could almost physically see the immaterial lance of mental energy that lashed out at the enemy.  
  
-The Race was going about its plan of attack as it had practiced since the old Enemies in their cubic ships had come through the portal. This small force was merely the local nodal defense force. The Race had decided long ago that despite this being the only known point of contact with the hostile enemy, it would receive only a slightly heightened fleet presence than was the norm. Although countless new ships were being raised in the stellar nurseries, they were still maturing and not yet ready to advance to become full on warships. As a result, The Race had decided that a nodal fleet disposition with strong forces around the core worlds would be best, as there was nothing known that prevented the old enemy from creating another portal to another area of The Race's space. Transiting the wormholes that linked all known systems in Fluidic Space didn't take that long as their termini were usually clustered near the core of a star system and transit times were virtually instantaneous from one end of the wormhole to the other.  
  
Even now, massive waves of reinforcements from nearby nodal systems were enroute to the artificial warp point that had again sprung up. Within six hours the defensive fleet would be nearly eight times its current size, and with a further seven hours, it would double that total. For a while, it appeared that no further incursions of hostile species would occur into The Race's home space. There had even been some arguments that the continual buildup of warships was a waste of embryos. Fortunately those voices were few and far between, for the buildup had continued according to The Race's citizens own desire for it to be so. Now those dissenting voices would be silent forevermore, for a second force had indeed entered into The Race's territory. They were different than the first, but their hostile intent was even more event that the original enemies had been. Although they didn't seem to be of one "voice" like those who used the cubic craft, nearly all of their individual "voices" were showing both their hostile nature and mission for all to hear clearly. That was why they had been exterminated like the enemies before them.  
  
That was also why the ships of The Race had again returned to this strange place of darkness and pinpricks of light, this void of near nothingness that any member of The Race found disconcerting. If the enemy continued to try and attack The Race, they must be eliminated at their source. Their source was in this odd place, and so it was to here that the fleet came. The Race had as yet no success in duplicating the warp point generator itself, but having done detailed scans of it after first destroying the old enemy's initial assault, it would come eventually. In the mean time, the portal must be secured in order to maintain access to this system and the stars surrounding it. While the race had had no reason for developing FTL drive tech before the old enemies invaded, they were also developing it now. If it did indeed prove true that there was no honeycomb of warp lanes crisscrossing this area, then another form of crossing the interstellar void must be created if a successful campaign was to be mounted in this peculiar area of space.  
  
But all of that was in the future. In the here and now, all that mattered was securing the area around the artificial warp point in order to ensure a bridge head into the enemies own area of space while preventing him from doing likewise. As a result of this, the fleet arrayed itself out in battle formation then launched itself at the enemy. But just as it was about to do so, something strange permeated the Voice of The Race. It was, surprisingly, one of the enemies that was causing it. While this was both intriguing and terrifying, it couldn't be allowed to continue. The Voice was combined and redoubled and sent back down on the lone enemy that had tried to enter it uninvited. It was like a heavy boot squashing a bug, only this helpless bug was only following orders and had never actually wanted to harm anything in his entire life. It wasn't his fault that Section 31 had engineered him to kill with a thought, but he was going to pay the price. -  
  
- ISS Athena, Flag Bridge -  
  
One minute Corval had been concentrating intently on his target, the next he was screaming through clenched teeth at the top of his lungs. T'var whipped her chair around to look at him. The veins in his temples were immediately apparent as he clenched his jaw tightly together. His eyes had rolled back into their sockets and his hands were twitching like he was having a seizure. T'var made to sand to see what had happened, but suddenly she felt light headed and her vision blurred. She staggered back into her seat as the dizziness increased. Then she felt as if a freight train had smashed into her mind.  
  
"Wha.." Her last conscious question faded off into mindless blathering as she stared vacantly ahead with a small trickle of drool collecting at the corner of her mouth to run down her cheek. The Psychonic Blast affected targeted crew differently. Weather you weren't affected at all or went permanently insane was directed to pure chance. The feedback caused by S- 8472 had caused Corval's attack on them to rebound and strike the crew of his own vessel. Throughout the massive warship, the crew began to playfully pull out isonlinear chips, ripping up wiring, pounding panels with blunt objects, and even turning on each other in their madness. The battle was nearly joined when the Athena's helmsman decided that his panel was the neatest thing in the world because it beeped when he pressed it. By pure chance he activated a micro jump to slip drive that carried the Athena out of combat range. It carried the ISS Hopolite in its tractor beam with it. And the Hopolite still carried most of her senior officers. And those senior officers were not affected by the Psychonic Blast in any way. 


	33. Chapter 31

- CHAPTER 31 -  
  
- ISS Hopolite, Main Bridge -  
  
Ulysses was just about to press his combadge when the view screen shifted radically and his battered ship groaned and creaked as the tractor placed additional stresses on the already tortured hull. Then there was a brief flicker of the main viewer as it went from black with pinpricks of light to the aqua blue of slipstream then back again in a nearly imperceptible period of time. The preplanned micro jump was designed only to take 2nd Fleet just beyond engagement range to allow it to sort itself out. Ulysses tapped his communicator.  
  
"Captain Vanguard to the Athena."  
  
"This is the Athena Captain Vanguard. What do you need?"  
  
"I hope that you aren't forgetting the last few of us here on the Hopolite! There are still people here who would very much like to be on a more secure ship when the enemy finally comes calling." Despite himself, Ulysses allowed his irritation at being forgotten about creep into his voice. The person on the other end of the com was silent for a second, then spoke in a terse whisper.  
  
"Oh Shit! .Sorry about that Sir!" There was a slight quaver in the officers voice. She was most likely extremely junior to a captain, and not every Imperial officer was as inclined to be lenient as Ulysses was. In fact, they would most likely take the opportunity to tear a strip off of the sorry sod on the other end of the com.  
  
"Its OK, just be sure that we get out of here soon please." On the viewer, the enemy fleet was growing larger as 2nd Fleet started to engage them. Locked up in the Athena's tractor, and without main power or impulse drive online, there was nothing the Hopolite could do except sit and wait for the Athena to remember that they needed to be transported.  
  
"Stand by for transport Sir. We will initiate it in a . AAAAHHHHHH!!!!!" The com stopped, terminated on the other end as the com officer screamed.  
  
"What do you suppose that was about?" Ulysses said to P'tel. She merely raised a single eyebrow in reply. Ulysses tapped his combadge again. "Vanguard to Athena, respond please." Silence deep enough to swallow thought permeated the Hopolite's bridge. "Athena, respond!" Again nothing. Then the view flickered blue again as the Athena micro jumped yet again. "What the HELL?!?"  
  
"I don't like this one bit Captain. Something is seriously wrong on the Athena." P'tel said, and even she couldn't hide the slight quaver of fear from her voice. Ulysses could tell from the looks in their eyes that the other officers present had had the exact same reaction. On the screen, there was a moment of seeming confusion among the arrayed Imperial vessels as their most powerful ship suddenly dropped out of formation. But they were to close to engagement range to turn back immediately unless they wanted to give the enemy basically a free shot at them, so command devolved to 2nd Fleet's 3rd in command till they could break through the enemy and rejoin the flag ship. The main viewer showed the Imperials continue on course as they closed with the enemy. Despite their initial confusion, they still had an intact chain of command and a mission to perform, and so they advanced on the enemy. Weapons fire erupted from the Imperial vessels first as the Phaser Lances mounted on the Sovereigns and Galaxies started to lay down long range fire. It wasn't to long before the enemy began to respond with powerful beams of their own. The darkened bridge of the Hopolite began to flicker with amber/orange light as the two fleets began to lay into each other.  
  
"They are most likely having the same problem contacting the Athena as we are sir." Clay Heidberg said.  
  
"And they will have to break free from the enemy before they can return here to offer the both of us assistance, that means that were on our own till then." Percy Davenport said from his dead tactical console.  
  
"Damn." Ulysses swore softly. "All right then, if that's how it is, then well just have to come up with something on our own. Options?"  
  
"We could try and hotwire the transporters into working again, but they wouldn't have enough power left in their backups to get us all off, and maybe not even one of us. I just don't know the extent of the damage they took." Chief Engineer Heidberg said with a frown. "It wouldn't be even a concern if we still had an intact shuttle bay. But it was gutted in the bioships attack and all our shuttles are melted to slag."  
  
"The Captains Yacht." P'tel said quietly, almost below earshot of the others. Yet they all looked up with startled expressions. Ulysses felt like smacking himself on the forehead for his oversight. Clay actually did.  
  
"Shit, of COURSE!" The Chief Engineer said a mere octave below a shout. "The Yacht is basically a self contained starship in its own right, and it has its own transporters. Damned but we are fools for not remembering it sooner. Best thing about it is its only five decks down via the turboshaft. Shall we go then?"  
  
"Lets go!" Ulysses said. "After you number one. It was you after all that remembered it so it should be you to get there first." P'tel merely nodded acquiescence. She strode towards the open lift doors with the others following her through the scorched and broken wreckage of the bridge. P'tel stepped down the first few rungs in the ladder, then clamped her boots tight against its outside and proceeded to slide down its length using her hands to slow her decent into the near pitch black shaft.  
  
- Wraith class ISS Yamato, One Minute Earlier -  
  
The orderly ranks of Imperial warships deployed their ablative armor generators and brought their shields fully online. Weapons turrets and armored hatch coverings were drawn out of the way in preparation for the coming engagement. The ISS Athena and the rest of 2nd Fleet dropped their fighter compliment and plots on bridges and CICs were flooded with a massive swarm of tiny green blips. While 2nd Fleet in its current state wasn't a carrier heavy battle line, any fleet that had a Bastion couldn't be considered light on fighters. With the space saved thanks to her new systems, the Athena alone spewed out 2000 Cobra Fighters. The rest of the fleet contributed a further 500. The fleet, seemingly insignificant little craft formed up into their designated squadrons then brought their ECM online, further cluttering any sensor system that didn't have access to their IFF transponder codes. Hopefully Species 8472 would ignore the swarm of fighters, for Chriton hadn't had the time to deploy his own few fighter wings before the ships that had carried them were destroyed. Those that had launched successfully were to few, and with to many scratch built squadrons to be effective. It was hoped that the enemy would ignore them in light of those facts and concentrate instead on the cap ships that it had to know were the most dangerous to them.  
  
The fleet also brought its own, considerably more powerful ECM online, as well as launching ECM drones. These flew out under the cover of ECM and engaged their holo emitters and jamming devices. While the fact that they weren't firing would rapidly show which were the real and which were the false targets, the would undoubtedly provide at least a momentary distraction to the enemy that the fleet could exploit. Throughout the entire fleet, the crimson flashing lights of Red Alert blazed and power was shunted to weapons, defenses and engines. Soon the enemy would be inrange and then the fun would start.  
  
One minute everything was running smoothly, with the fleet doing its job with its usual efficient, competent demeanor, the next the Athena had micro jumped out of formation. This wasn't good news. If the rest of 2nd Fleet had to fight without the monitor's support, things could get messy fast. Rear Admiral Theodore Bartlett bit his lower lip absently and spoke without taking his eyes off of the now distant Athena on the holo projection.  
  
"Try and hail the flagship."  
  
"I can't get a response sir." Said the concerned com officer. "The signal is getting through, but its like no one is answering on their end." Theodore bit his lip at this. Something had gone terribly wrong on the Fleet's flagship, but right now there was scarce little time to do anything about it. The battle was about to be joined and if 2nd Fleet turned and went to slipstream, even immediately, they were bound to lose more ships than if they tried to fight their way through then slip jump once on the other side.  
  
"Keep trying. Give me all ships frequency."  
  
"Done sir."  
  
"This is Rear Admiral Bartlett to 2nd Fleet. We shall continue the attack as planned, then once we have pushed through the enemy, micro jump to the Athena's location. Bartlett out."  
  
"Coming into weapons range now sir." He didn't even have to give the word, for the rest of the fleet did indeed know the plan. The fired as they entered effective range and the leading edge of enemy vessels was savagely mauled. 2nd Fleet's Galaxies, Sovereigns and Wraiths opened fire with their Phaser Lances, sending spears of energy into the enemy with deadly effect. Species 8472's organic starships didn't splinter and explode like normal vessels. When an attack became to much for the organisms biological repair ability, the ships seemingly shriveled like a spider under a flame. Over 15 vessels did just that as 2nd Fleet's opening salvo burned them down.  
  
-The Race's fleet writhed under the new enemies fire. Their recent, though brief, encounter with this weapon class had indicated that it was not as powerful as the Race's own bio-pulse cannons. Yet that didn't mean that they didn't pack a considerable punch. And where the fleet had caught the first of the new enemies unawares and in a crossfire, this enemy was under neither pressure and the effect was chilling. Yet The Race had no choice but to fly through the withering barrage to enter its own firing range, which it was doing right about. now. The free ride the new enemy's latest fleet had been getting until now ended as bio-pulse beams struck back with their full fury. Yet here was another surprise waiting. While enemy ships still died, they were no where near as effected as the first fleet had been. This reduction in weapons efficiency was both irritating and worrisome. Yet even this wouldn't prevent successful completion of elimination of the enemy, or so the military analysis's said through the voice. The fleet pressed on. - 


	34. Chapter 32

- CHAPTER 32 -  
  
- ISS Yamato, Flag Bridge -  
  
A slight smile creased Theodore Bartlett's face as he saw that the shield reinforcement courtesy of the Aegean's worked exactly as expected. During the extremely short debrief of the Battle Born's Captain, Bartlett had gleaned that Chriton's Aegean's hadn't had time to bring their generators fully online before they were destroyed, so seeing that 2nd Fleets ships were much tougher targets must have given the enemy pause. In front of him, 20 Sovereigns, 13 Galaxies and two Wraith's conformal shields glowed brightly as they shunted the incoming attack aside. Their status bars changed drastically as shields were smashed flat despite the Aegean's best efforts. 5 Sovereigns and 7 Galaxies were destroyed outright, their star bright funeral pyres flashing more dimly on the Flag Bridge's holographic display. The other's sustained only minor damage, and they and the rest of 2nd Fleet's capital ships again fired their Phaser Lances into the heart of the enemies formation. This time they scored direct hits on the massive enemy vessel in the center of their formation. It ruptured in a few places, sending various unknown fluids and atmosphere into space where they froze rapidly. Then the fighters that had been racing in, and being relatively ignored by the enemy, salvoed their external loads of quantum torpedoes at the enemy Behemoth, then closed in to strafe the nearby Battleships with PPCs. Although the powerful warheads barely affected the enemies ships, if enough of them struck even they could kill. 2nd Fleet's fighters launched over 10000, with over 8000 targeting the enemy capital ship.  
  
- VF-117 out of the ISS Athena, (Wing Commander) Cmdr. Vic McDermot's Fighter -  
  
Vic looked out his bubble canopy as the holo display bracketed his target in red. It was largely unnecessary, as such a large vessel was rather hard to miss. Bobbing and weaving his way through the enemies Battleships, with the rest of his squadron at his heels, Vic drove his fighter onwards towards the fat and happy target. The evasion pattern was seemingly random but was in fact a carefully choreographed maneuver that had been honed due to long periods in both simulator and combat missions alike. Enemy fire against the fighters was sporadic at best, it was almost like they were choosing to ignore the fighter strike coming at them. Vic shrugged in his flight suit. If the new baddies wanted to ignore him and his comrades, that was just peachy. It would mean that there would be far fewer empty bunks than was normally the case in fighter ops.  
  
"Coming up on launch point in five. four.three. two. one. launch!" he said into VF-117's squadron tactical net. He and the six other Cobra's of his flight volleyed the four external quantums they all carried. Around him, the other squadrons were doing the same. While they couldn't give the torps the same initial kick in velocity as shipboard launchers could (meaning they had to close more to make sure that the torps drive had enough fuel to hit the target), they did let them loose directly at their targets from full impulse. The powerful engines in the rear of the quantums kicked in and they streaked in on the enemy Behemoth bringing death and destruction with them.  
  
-The fleet had ignored the small craft, thinking that nothing as small as they could pose a greater threat than the capital vessels even now charging up their wake. Now they recoiled afresh as the tiny craft volleyed blue/white orbs of death into their midst. The flagship, already wounded by weapons on enemy vessels that were supposed to have been destroyed by now, was struck by a titanic avalanche of destruction as the zero point warheads of the quantums detonated. For a brief second System A875 34B9 gained a second star as close to 8000 quantums exploded as one. After the fireball died down, there was absolutely nothing left of the fleet's flagship and several nearby Battleships. The small strike craft blew through the ranks of remaining warships, then began to turn around for another attack run. Overcoming its initial shock, The Race quickly changed targeting priorities and the Launcher class bioships swung around to send out their potent spores towards them. Detonating in a prearranged pattern, and with more than 10 times the explosive force of a Heavy Photon Torp, they cut vast swaths through the returning fighters. The spore's explosion wasn't directed, it was area effect, and it affected a fairly substantial area. Nearly every Launcher was targeting the fighters, and they exacted a heavy toll in revenge for the loss of their capital ship. Only 100 fighters survived the bombardment, and most of those were severely damaged. The fleet's lighter Scouts and Destroyers raced after them in an effort to crush them completely. Range had now dropped sufficiently for the lighter ships in the fleet to use their less powerful bio-pulse weaponry on the enemy. With vengeance in their hearts, they dove on the enemy vessels -  
  
- Cmdr. Vic McDermot's Fighter -  
  
Acrid smoke filled the cockpit from burnt out systems. Fortunately Vic's flight suit used rebreathing equipment, so all the smoke did was make viewing his still living instruments and the surrounding space difficult. His Cobra was still in space, and still flying after a fashion. The rest of VF-117 hadn't been as lucky. They were all destroyed. As much as Vic wanted to blame poorer piloting skills on that, he knew deep down that it was merely luck and chance that he was still alive. Alarms were howling for his attention, and it seemed like nearly all of his systems were either destroyed or dying. Yet his Cobra still responded to input from his throttle and control stick, if slightly sluggishly, so Vic stayed in his fighter rather than bail out. Aiming for an onrushing bioship about the size of a Imperial scout vessel, he pulled the PPC trigger experimentally. The twin cannons on his port side fired as normal, but the two on the starboard did nothing. Calling up his power distribution MFD, Vic transferred all power to his starboard cannons to the port ones. Filled with the sudden extra power, the two Pulse Phasers on the port side increased their tempo till the bolts were nearly coming out in a continuous stream. Lining up his gunnery piper on the enemy Scout, he let loose. Juking to port, the bioship evaded, but only for a split second.  
  
The Frigate sized ship was nearly as maneuverable as Vic's own Cobra, but it was a bigger target. The targeting piper quickly fell back in place as he jockeyed the nose of his fighter back on target. The controls still felt mushy, but at least no new warnings started up when he executed the violent maneuver to target the Bioship again. Vic shredded a forward spine of the Scout clean off and stitched a gore and icor filled track down the top of the bioship. The Scout died, it took more damage than a comparable Imperial scout would have, but it still was considerably easier to down than its nasty bigger brother the Battleship. Something to note on the off chance I survive this furrball Vic thought. Executing a victory roll and a war whoop, Vic then spotted another Cobra that was nearly getting tagged by a Destroyer sized Bioship The Cobra was badly damaged, with one of its quad impulse engines shattered and sparking and its entire ventral side cracked and pitted. Sliding in behind the Destroyer, Vic volleyed a quartet of his internal quantums, then let loose with a stream of PPC fire. The Destroyer staggered when the torps hit, but it kept on the stricken Cobra with single minded determination. Yet the deadly flail of Pulse Phasers raked the ship mercilessly and eventually they proved to much for the Species 8472 warship. It broke in near equal halves as the combined quantum and pulse phaser assault tore it in two. Vic keyed his com to the fighter who's bacon he had just saved.  
  
"Cobra that I just rescued, form up on my wing and lets try and get back to a friendly ship."  
  
"Roger that!" came the intensely relieved female voice. Her Cobra slipped into position along side Vic's. Picking a relatively clear lane back towards the oncoming 2nd Fleet, Vic shoved his throttle full open and the two fighters rocketed ahead and into the brewing maelstrom of heavy capital ship weaponry that was streaking through space.  
  
- ISS Yamato, Flag Bridge -  
  
The great ship shook as the powerful bio-pulse beam from a Battleship struck it a glancing blow to the port saucer. Her massive reinforced shields nearly collapsed, but they held the beam aside and soon afterward began to regenerate. Thank God for the Aegeans Bartlett thought. Without their shield boosting abilities, 2nd Fleet would be in considerably worse shape than it was now. Range had finally wound down sufficiently for all of 2nd Fleet's weapons to engage the enemy. Massive Heavy Photons spat from the five Wraiths to streak in on individual Battleships even as Quantum torpedo turrets, phaser strips and PPCs sent out an avalanche of destruction on the Species 8472 craft. Seeing how the bioships apparently used no form of shields, relying instead upon the regenerative properties of their living ships to heal damage with mind numbing rapidity. And it was that same set up that now worked against them, for the massive payload of antimatter housed in a heavy photon was specifically designed to take out shieldless targets. The torps themselves were relatively slow moving, yet their engines sufficed to get them into contact with their targets. They broke apart, and carefully designed force fields directed the stream of AM directly at their targets naked hulls. Space flared brightly as matter met antimatter and annihilated itself, leaving behind the shattered hulks of enemy vessels. But even as they fired, the enemy fleet took its revenge against the fighter swarm. Ships that had up till this point in the engagement not fired a weapon spun and launched a massive barrage of torpedo like weapons into the path of 2nd Fleet's fighters.  
  
"SWEET MOTHER OF GOD!" Bartlett swore from the shock of it. One second there had been over 2000 fighters on his holo display, their outlines highlighted in green that from the distance they were now all but hid the starfield behind them. The next there was only a handful of battered and broken survivors scattered across a wide swath of space. Then survival instinct overcame shock as Theodore began to wave his hand like a conductor, selecting one of the fighter killers. "Select all vessels of this class and designate primary targets!" His new targeting priorities flashed out to the rest of the fleet, and swarms of Defiants, Sabers, Novas and Intrepids swung towards them. They deadly enemy craft were shaped rather like a cheese wedge, which was different than the usual symmetrical spindle that made up the normal bioship. They also proved to have nearly as tough of hide as a Battleship. Scores of the Imperial vessels were cut down short of their targets as powerful beams speared and shattered them, but the ones that survived wiped out every one of the new priority targets from space.  
  
The lighter Imperial warships were using their high maneuverability to its best extent. Flying in wing pairs, with one covering the other as it attacked, they acted almost like fighters themselves, bobbing and weaving through rank after rank of enemy vessels as they hammered away at targets of opportunity. This was the most efficient way of using them, for if they were anchored to the rest of the battle line, their maneuverability and small cross sections would be wasted. These were their greatest strength, so Imperial doctrine was to use them as they would a fighter, sending them out to distract and shave away at the enemy. Ten Saber wing pairs converged on a Battleship, laying into it from all directions. Their pinpricks only succeeded in bringing down the fury of both it and its escorting Destroyers. Eight of the 20 Sabers were blotted out almost immediately. Although they had powerful shields and thick armor for such small and maneuverable craft, the lacked the added protection of the Aegeans, which had stayed back to cover the capital ships. It wouldn't have mattered much even if they did have the Aegeans shield enhancement available to them, for beams powerful enough to normally cleave an Akira in half in one shot all but vaporized them. This same thing was repeated through out the entire clashing formations as the Imperial Defiants, Sabers, Novas and Intrepids sought out their targets.  
  
-The new enemy's lighter units, while not as dangerous as his capital ships, and not anywhere as numerous as his fighters had been, were still an annoyance. This new enemy was considerably better at tactics than the old enemy's in their geometrically precise ships had been. Where the old enemy had merely sent all of his vessels in one massive wave, the new enemy used tactics that enhanced his advantages and limited his disadvantages. He was truly a worthy opponent, but he was still to weak to succeed. Despite heavier losses than was originally planned for, the current loss rate was acceptable to The Race. And despite the enemy being harder to kill than expected, they were still dying, with more and more of their fellows joining them as the battle progressed. The one wild card in the mix was the new enemies massive capital ship. It had housed the enemies surprising, yet pathetic attempt to use telepathy as a weapon against The Race. While its raw power was relatively high for an individual, compared with the full power of The Voice, the telepathic link that bound all the individuals of The Race towards consensual purpose, it was a mere annoyance.  
  
It had been dealt with as such, and shortly there after, the enemy capital ship had mysteriously disappeared only to reappear a considerable distance away nearly instantaneously. It must have used a similar device to that which was found in the wreckage of the old enemies craft. While The Races engineers had yet to crack the secret of FTL propulsion, having never had the need for it in their home space thanks to the warp point network that honeycombed it. But apparently the space that the enemies came from was as different in that respect as it was in most others, for the enemies apparently HAD to use FTL drives to cross the interstellar void. But all of that was secondary information, for initial analysis of that vessel had shown just how powerful it was. If it had been in the battle, and even now if it rejoined it, The Race would have had no choice but to fall back to rejoin the overwhelming reinforcements enroute to the artificial warp point. But as it stood now, the vessel appeared to be non operational, so all the fleet had to do was to wipe out the functional enemies, then take out the big vessel on its own. Then The Race would have its foothold in the enemies space, have a base of operations once a working FTL drive was designed from which to strike back at the enemies and in so doing protect the Race from further irrational and wantonly violent assault. The weak shall perish, for that was what the voice had decreed. - 


	35. Chapter 33

- CHAPTER 33 -  
  
- 2nd Fleet Battle Group A, Engaging Species 8472 Fleet in former Borg System A875 34B9 -  
  
An Akira wing in claw formation with six Defiant wing pairs ranging at their flanks and an Aegean tucked in behind in support were executing finely tuned volley fire at the onrushing bioships. Their massive single launch torpedo capability allowed them to take out even the tough Battleships, and they were doing just that. Launching eight quantums apiece per volley, they rained down a tidal wave of weapons on the enemy. Their attached Defiants maneuvered around to the Battleships blind arcs to add their own fire, and even possibly distract the enemy into attacking them instead of the higher priority targets the Akiras posed. That was the one good thing about attacking a Species 8472 Battleship. While it was as maneuverable and speedy as a Defiant, and about as tough as a Wraith with deadly weaponry, it was all in its foreword arch. This allowed the fleet little Defiants to maneuver into their rather large blind spot while they concentrated on the Akiras. And if they distracted the Battleship enough to cause it to turn and engage them, then it would be cut to ribbons by the Akiras. The waves of quantums spat from the heavy torpedo pod and the launchers in the primary hull. While they weren't burst fire capable, they did have a respectable reload speed, and volley after volley crashed down on the bioships. They were followed closely by massed phaser strikes, and the torrent of sheer power was to much for even the thick hides of the Battleships. Spindle after spindle crumpled and died under the onslaught. But then the Akiras were themselves struck. Two wings of Battleships were charging in from port and starboard, firing as the came. The wing CO chose fast, then swung his ships towards the port attackers. Both fore and aft tubes went into continuous rapid fire, and their foreword phaser arrays were joined their rear phasers as those arcs came to bear on their attackers. While at the current rate, their stocks of quantums would be exhausted rapidly, as would the phaser capacitors, they had no choice but to throw everything they could at the enemy and hope that it would be enough.  
  
The first Akira to die was hit by three bio-pulse beams nearly simultaneously. The first one smashed its shields flat, the next struck the ablative armor, punching through to leave a gaping molten crater in the ventral port saucer. The Akira would have continued to fight even after that, but the third beam was the final straw. With its defenses depleted and not yet regenerated, the Akira was a sitting duck. The third bio-pulse beam speared deep into the heart of the ship and it broke into large sections of debris. The next one was running low on shield strength as it had just shrugged off an attack. The Battleship that had shot it sent out a fresh beam that clipped the port Slipstream nacelle. It was only a glancing shot, yet it was enough to cause the nacelle strut to begin to warp from the unnatural strain. With a giant groan of strained alloy, the nacelle ripped away taking most of the weapons pod and port boom with it.  
  
A wing of Galaxies was heavily engaged with an equal number of Battleships, and if it wasn't for the escorting Aegean, the fight would have been over long ago. As it was both sides were taking damage, yet it was still in the winged spindle shaped Battleships favor. As they traded furious fire, striking with phasers, phaser lances and burst fire quantum tubes that crisscrossed bio-pulse beams, the battle lines met and interpenetrated. A Galaxy was hit through an opening in her failing shields, and the beam tore away a full ¼ of her saucer and shattered her port nacelle. The lighting flickered on board the great ship, then died as the QSS core went into emergency shutdown. Backup fusion reactors kept her quantums and powerful phaser arrays firing, but many of the crew were already fleeing in escape pods. A shot from a Frigate punched through her scarred armor, cutting through her saucer, neck and engineering section almost down her center line. The ship then stopped firing as all power died and began a lazy list to starboard. Orderly formations were dissolving into seeming chaos as 2nd Fleet tried to blow through the enemy. The bioships were more maneuverable than their similarly sized Imperial counterparts, and they made malignant use of it, diving through openings in the Imperial lines, then pulling radical 180 degree hairpin turns that would have quite possibly ripped a Starfleet vessel to shreds from the strain. They came out of their turns firing their hideously destructive bio-pulse beams into the less heavily weaponed rear arcs of 2nd Fleet's capital ships. Yet this had been allowed for in the planning and the still linked Prometheus's spun around in a fair approximation of the enemy's maneuverability and launched everything they had at them. Crimson/orange shafts of Phasers, amber bolts of Pulse Cannon fire and the blue/white orbs of quantum torpedoes were seeded into space by their parent vessels. While individually these did very little to a bioships skin, the sheer weight of fire brought to bear on solitary targets by entire Prometheus wings was enough to take out even the powerful Battleships. Yet even that was not looking like it would be enough. Starting in a trickle, but growing larger by the second, Imperial Prometheus's, Nebulas, Galaxies and Sovereigns began to die as the incoming fire overcame what even their enhanced shields and ablative armor could shrug aside. As the fleet finally broke through and prepped to micro jump, they were far fewer in number than there had been at the start of the battle. Bartlett glanced down at the casualty report on his left hand terminal.  
  
While the Yamato was still mostly in one piece, receiving only superficial damage to her port dorsal QSS nacelle and saucer, two of the other Wraith's were gone. Out of the 40 Sovereigns, only 32 of them were operational, with all having various degrees of battle damage. The same held true for the 13 out of 45 Galaxies, 48 out of 60 Prometheus, 24 out of 50 Nebulas, 14 out of 55 Akiras, 49 out of 75 Steam Runners, 27 out of 80 Intrepids, 46 out of 200 Sabers, 68 out of 300 Defiants, 33 out of 250 Novas and 12 out of 20 Aegeans. The crew casualties were in well into the hundreds of thousands dead and nearly twice as many wounded. The fortunate thing was that most of them were Imperial R&D's new toys, the Imp Drones. They weren't technically Human or Vulcan, at least to Human and Vulcan eyes, so their loss wasn't as painful as those incurred during the Borg/Imperial war when all Starfleet had were Humans and Vulcans with the odd alien thrown in here and there. And worse yet, if S-8472 chose to press their attack, they still had the numbers to force 2nd Fleet out of the system. And then a miracle happened. Well two actually, but they happened so close together as to count as one in the grand scheme of things.  
  
- ISS Hopolite, Captain's Yacht, a few minutes earlier -  
  
The familiar whine of the transporter sounded in Ulysses ears and his vision went to blue/white as the beam turned him into a data stream and sent him onto the Flag Bridge of the ISS Athena. While it was a perfectly acceptable means of getting from place to place, one didn't use it without a subconscious terror as to what exactly happened to ones self when one was transported, and to what could go wrong. Very bad things could happen if things went wrong in a transporter. Fortunately for Ulysses subconscious AND his conscious, nothing went wrong and he rematerialized on the Flag Bridge exactly where he had wanted to be. P'tel and Percy Davenport were there with him, and the trio, lit by the flickering glow of the battle unfolding mirror image style on the massive holo display, leveled their phaser rifles into combat readiness. Not only were they armed, they were wearing the light, unpowered riot armor and helmets that shipboard MPs and Security Details wore. It would shrug off most physical attacks and even offer some protection against phasers. While no where near as potent as the defenses a full on power armor combat suit offered, it was considerably better than transporting into an unknown situation in just their uniforms.  
  
The scene on the Athena's Flag Bridge was eerie. The bridge was laid out before them, with the secondary stations ringing the central command chair and holo display in a horseshoe shaped pit. Imp drones, identifiable by their Borgish looking fan shaped implant near their left ear, lied twitching in the bottom of the pit, or not moving at all. Their fellow Human crewmembers and officers seemed to fare little better, for they were alternately lying still or spasming on the ground. Except for a few. They were repeatedly smashing blunt objects like the pommels of their largely ceremonial, yet still quite deadly daggers into hapless fellow crewmen. There was a maniacal gleam in their eyes, and sweat glistened on their brow thanks to the holo display's flickering, dancing light. P'tel and Davenport phasered those quickly, before they noticed that they had new visitors and turned their gruesome, malevolent actions on them instead of the mangled corpses on the deck.  
  
Ulysses strode down the narrow catwalk and into the holo display towards the Flag Officers command chair. Percy and P'tel covered him, walking a half a pace behind him with their eyes and weapons trained outward alert for the slightest sign of attack. As Captain Vanguard pierced the holo display, he saw a feminine hand attached to an arm clad in the brilliant white and gold uniform of an Admiral draped lifelessly over the armrest. Still cautious, he picked up his pace. Still holding his phaser rifle in one hand, his finger ready to pull the trigger at need, Ulysses reached out with his Borg exoskeleton encased left hand and slowly swung the chair around till the still form of Fleet Admiral T'var was visible. Ulysses gasped and his eyes went wide as he saw her face. It caused him to nearly drop his rifle in shock. Of all the people in the universe to run into in this situation, why was it her?  
  
"What is it?" P'tel asked, here eyes still scanning the room.  
  
"Nothing." Ulysses said after just a tad to long of a pause. P'tel turned slightly to stare at him. He was kneeling in front of the lifeless Admiral, one hand holding his rifle on her, the other hovering in space as if not knowing what to do with itself. But she had a job to do here, so she resumed scanning her half of the room, keeping her questions to herself. Ulysses let his rifle drop to its shoulder sling and opened up the med kit hanging down to his opposite hip. Taking out a tricorder, he began to scan the Vulcan Admiral. After a short period of time, the tricorder reached its diagnosis and showed its recommended treatment to Ulysses. "Tricorder says they are all suffering from neural shock to varying degrees. Most likely cause is Psychonic attack." He said to his two officers." While it wouldn't be an actual fix to her problem, a hypo stimulant would revive her with no ill effects. His hands moved with frantic speed as they grabbed the designated hypo and pressed it to T'var's neck. There was the usual short hiss and then T'var climbed out of the smothering blanket of unconsciousness.  
  
Her eyes opened to reveal an anxious looking Human with the remains of Borg implants showing on his face and hand. He wore light armor and there was a phaser rifle strung from his shoulder. She was still groggy, both from the period of unconsciousness and her still untreated mind flaying, so she couldn't initially place his face. She knew that it wasn't one of her officers or senior bridge staff, yet she was sure that she had seen that face somewhere before. The face spoke, its near whisper seeming like a rifle shot in her eardrums.  
  
"Admiral T'var, can you hear me?" the face's worried voice said. She nodded slowly, as if even that slight movement took all her control to muster. The voice continued as she tried to sift through her shattered mind just exactly where she knew this man from. "Thank God. Look, I'm going to have to move you to sickbay to get you fixed up." Part of him wanted to rush her immediately to sickbay, but he just couldn't bring himself to leave the others suffering on the Flag Bridge and throughout the ship. Speaking to the air, he continued. "Computer, activate EMH program ship wide medical alert condition Red One."  
  
"Unable to comply, Engineering systems severely compromised on multiple decks. Cause is removal of isonlinear chips and physical damage to Engineering systems."  
  
Muttering under his breath about simple-minded computers, Ulysses spoke aloud again in a slightly more irritated voice. "Then initiate EMH program on all capable sections."  
  
"Acknowledged. EMH program under alert condition Red One initiating in all capable sections." Red One set the EMH's into autonomous mode, fixing up injured crew on their own without orders. One appeared on the Flag Bridge, the light flickering on his bald head. Without orders, just like he was supposed to, he went over and began to treat the injured, placing neural regenerators on their foreheads. Ulysses reached up and tapped his communicator. "Vanguard to Cadence," he paused a beat as the Hopolite's Captain's Yacht's computer chimed its acknowledgement. "Four to beam directly to sickbay." 


	36. Chapter 34

- CHAPTER 34 -  
  
- ISS Athena, Slipstream Core Alpha, that same time -  
  
Clay Heidberg pushed a lock of curly auburn hair away from his sea gray eyes as he read through the status readouts for the Bastion class's engineering systems. The results were not promising. While many of the ships six slipstream cores could be restored to operational efficiency given a few hours, 2nd Fleet and the Athena didn't have a few hours. Over half the crew were either unconscious or acting like madmen, with the rest were busy trying to stay alive as their former crewmates tried to slaughter them. They had tried to do the same with Heidberg's team when they beamed into Core Alpha, and Clay thanked his lucky stars that Captain Vanguard had stipulated that the Engineering boarding party be armed and armored. The attackers were lying side by side in a corner under the effects of heavy stun. Those who were incapacitated by what was apparently a backlash from a Psychonic attack gone bad were also stunned and lying peacefully next to them. Those not as fortunate were lying outside in the corridor. There were still bloodstains on the carpet where they had been found, but Heidberg forced himself to ignore them. Instead he focused on his duties. It was his and his small team's job to get the ship operational and into the fight ASAP and Clay was going to do everything he could not to let Captain Vanguard down.  
  
It wasn't going to be easy, for even though a Bastion class could run on a single core, the redundancy and added power from the other five would have been very welcome. But he had only five people, and two of them weren't even engineers. Lt.'s Eton and Wendell had been attached to his team because they were the only free hands available. Nearly all of the Hopolite's surviving crew had been beamed aboard the Athena before the Psychonic attack, and thus were in the same boat as the rest of the Athena's crew.  
  
"Alright." Clay said as he turned away from the master systems display holo and towards his team. "Wendell and Eton, you go with Ensign Higgins and start putting the isonlinear chips back into their slots." It still irked him that the sniveling little piss ant was one of the few engineering personnel left on the Hopolite when this entire bad dream had begun. Fortunately there were only a few dozen chips pulled out of Core Alpha's systems. The Athena's chief engineer had been playing with them like they were building blocks and he was a toddler. He was now unconscious with the rest of the crew present in Core Alpha. "Martin and Colton, you are with me. We have to reconnect the severed pathways on this terminal there." The engineering panel had been hit by a phaser blast, and most of its wiring was fused with the shell and display in a melted mess. It would have to be worked around, with splices sent from beyond the damaged area to the appropriate ones on the other side. As he was talking, an EMH appeared in the room and started treating the Athena's injured engineering staff. Clay ignored it and commenced work with a length of wire and a plasma welder, linking them as fast as possible in order to bring the massive slipstream core in a pit in the middle of the room online again.  
  
- ISS Athena, Sickbay -  
  
Ulysses set T'var gingerly down on the bio bed. An EMH in a rankless uniform with a medical green branch designation came up and started administering treatment. After a few seconds, it turned to the three ship less officers from the adrift Hopolite.  
  
"The Admiral has suffered severe neural trauma. It will take a few hours of treatment to rectify the damage." Ulysses nodded then approached T'var. She looked up at him, and already the confusion in her eyes was beginning to dissipate as the neural regenerators at her temples worked their magic. Those brown eyes locked on him and he saw their final comprehension.  
  
I know this man, T'var thought. Finally her memory coughed up the answer. A more youthful face, lacking the Borg modifications, swam to the surface. "Well young Mr. Vanguard. I see that you have indeed met the capabilities you so ably demonstrated as a Cadet at the Academy." She said, glancing down to rank pips on the collar of his uniform as it peeked up through his chest and shoulder armor. A look crossed his face like he had bitten into something spoiled, and when he replied there was a bitter undertone to his voice.  
  
"Yes Ma'am." That statement of agreement was more apt than T'var realized. Ulysses memory went back to when he had first met T'var. Early on during his Academy days, the only capabilities he ably demonstrated had been picking fights with fellow classmates and getting into all manner of trouble. He had almost been turfed out of Starfleet Academy until then Instructor T'var had taken him under her wing in an attempt to salvage him.  
  
With his crude yet strong telepathic abilities, he had been able to convince the board of admissions and their battery of telepathic scans that he wasn't a threat. Yet he WAS a true threat, for at that time his one goal in life was to gain access to one of the Imperials most powerful vessel and lay waste to Terra at the earliest possible opportunity. He was also barely able to contain his aggression against officers and fellow classmates at the Academy. One of his instructors, the then Rear Admiral T'var, had decided that she would get to the bottom of his rage.  
  
After another night in close confinement in his quarters for starting a fight with a fellow classmate, she went to meet him. He remembered that experience vividly, for it had changed his life.  
  
- 11 Years Ago, Star Fleet Academy, Cadet Ulysses Vanguard's Quarters -  
  
Ulysses three bunkmates were not present. They had been told in no uncertain terms to be elsewhere this morning, and no one argued with Admiral T'var, let alone a first year Cadet. Ulysses Vanguard paced in his small room like a caged tiger. Although he had managed to slip into the very nest of the beast, his admittedly far-fetched plan wasn't going to be near completion for a while. Yet he was finding it considerably harder to hold his hostility in check now that he was in among those that served the beast day in and day out. And with each day, the rage that burned inside him flamed brighter. He didn't try to dampen it, in fact he fed it, let it grow. He knew that it threatened to consume him, but by now he was beyond caring. Ulysses had lived with the hate so long that he wasn't sure that he could go on without it.  
  
It was a hate filled drive to strike back at the Terran Empire for all that it had taken from him. Yet he was still young and immature, but thanks in large part to his half El Aurian heritage, at 16 he looked 20 Terran years. El Aurian's aged in spurts with rather long pauses between them even early on in life. Their average life span wasn't common knowledge to anyone other than the El Aurians themselves, but it was known to be at least centuries long. The Human genes Ulysses got from his father had combined with the El Aurian ones he got from his mother strangely, so that his growth spurts were compressed considerably from the El Aurian and even human norm. Being only 16, yet able to pass for 20 had opened many doors to someone who could obtain the appropriate foraged papers and records. Like say opening up Star Fleet Academy to him years before he was eligible. In his still childish brain, he had hatched a plan that he at least found wonderfully ironic. He would enter the Academy, gain access to a ship, and then use said ship on the Terran Empire. It was just the kind of plan that a bright young boy filled with teenage hormonal changes, inexperience and hate would think up. And it was just the kind of plan that would never work in practice, for even if he succeeded in getting his commission, then getting assigned to a reasonably powerful warship, he would still have to overcome the various security lockouts preventing junior officers from activating systems without authorization. And if he pulled off a miracle and got past them, he still would have to get it to Sol system, then get through the various, multi layered defensive shells all without outsiders finding out. While any adult would have found this series of events improbable in the extreme, to an angry teen they were all highly probable. And he couldn't think of anything else he could do to get back at the TE, so he strode up to the recruiter's office and signed on the dotted line.  
  
That was how he had ended up in Starfleet service, but it was also the root cause of his troubles fitting in. He was trying to become a member of what he despised and vilified most in the universe. Of course T'var knew none of this. No one did, just like no one alive knew that he was part El Aurian. His genetic heritage was muddled enough courtesy of nature that he could pass for a genetically modified human. Fortunately for him, all of the major genetic markers for El Aurian weren't present when the Medical branch did their tests on him. He only had the minor ones, and they were, while odd for a pure blood Terran, explainable due to his "in vitro genetic modifications". Ulysses had been particularly proud of that part of his plan. The medical staff had bought his genetic modification story hook, line and sinker. While genies weren't particularly prevalent in Terran society, the practice being frowned upon by the government and medical establishment, it could and was still used from time to time.  
  
The door to Ulysses quarters chimed, then a second later Rear Admiral T'var, Academy Instructor: Advanced Starship Combat Tactics 101, entered the room. As it swooshed shut behind her, Ulysses had absolutely no idea just how much his life would change as a result of this meeting. 


	37. Chapter 35

- CHAPTER 35 -  
  
- Starfleet Academy, 11 Years Ago -  
  
"Well Mr. Vanguard, what have you to say for yourself?" T'var's stern looking angular face seemed to stare deep into Ulysses. Ulysses merely stood at attention before her, unflinching under her fierce scrutiny. T'var almost smiled at the lad's impudence, but that would have been most unVulcan like, so she refrained from showing her amusement externally. "I am surprised at your silence Mr. Vanguard. Usually those in your position are either begging for their spot at the Academy, or else they have already packed their bags and left of their own accord. Yet here you are, as defiant as ever, yet not preparing to leave either. You present a most intriguing dilemma. Just what is it that you are hoping to accomplish with your time here?" The stone-faced silence remained her reply. "Mr. Vanguard, you will answer me or you will be expelled immediately, am I making my self understood?" T'var put all of the snap her 150 plus years of fleet command experience had brought her into her words. That alone had always been enough to crack errant Cadets that thought they were tough enough to stand up to her. Yet this one didn't bat an eye. He stared back at her with those same coldly calculating eyes. He is either one of the densest individuals I have ever encountered, or else he just doesn't care, T'var thought. Finally he responded.  
  
"Ma'am, I merely want to finish my training so that I can get my commission aboard a starship."  
  
"If that is your goal, why do you consistently pick fights with fellow cadets?"  
  
"Ma'am, you wouldn't understand, and I have no intention of trying to explain it to you."  
  
"I would encourage you to try Cadet. Your test scores are exemplary, putting you near the top of your class in all subjects. Aside from your behavior, you would make an exemplary officer. Why then do you continue down that path when by your own admission you want to become an officer?"  
  
What business is it of hers was the first thought that sprang into Ulysses' mind. Then after a slightly longer pause, another one replaced it. Why did she care? He was, after all, just another Cadet out of the tens of thousands that went through San Francisco Starfleet Academy every year. Why was she trying so hard to save him?  
  
"I respectfully refuse to reply ma'am." Ulysses replied, showing no hint of his brewing internal conflict in neither his demeanor nor his expression.  
  
Oh of all the mulish. He has so much promise, yet he refuses to change his ways or even to let others in to see if they could help solve his problems T'var thought. Looks like things are gonna have to be done the hard way.  
  
Quick as a flash, T'var's hand snaked out and gripped Ulysses lower neck. Ulysses only had a half a second for his eyes to widen before he was dragged into unconsciousness. Hands went about his collapsing form, easing him to the floor. As his vision grayed out to black, he heard a far away whisper in his ears.  
  
"I am sorry Cadet, but you have left me with no alternative." Then the world went black.  
  
Ulysses opened his eyes to see a brilliant thick white light all around him. As if from far away, but getting closer, he heard another voice calling his name. The voice seemed familiar, but it was distorted slightly, and so he couldn't exactly place it. Seemingly to materialize out of the light, a feminine figure appeared. She looked vaguely human, but there virtually no way to tell in her present state, so blurred and unclear were her features.  
  
"Hello Ulysses." The woman said, and it was the same voice as he had heard earlier.  
  
"Who are you and where am I?" Ulysses demanded. The woman merely put her index finger to her lips and continued to speak.  
  
"You must listen to me. Trust T'var, Ulysses. She can be of great importance to you if you would let her help you."  
  
"But."  
  
"My little Uly, you were always so stubborn, even as a babe in arms." She cut him off, her voice both filled with love and exasperation. As the vision spoke, her voice clicked in Ulysses mind.  
  
"Mamma?" Ulysses whispered with a mixture of wonder and pain. His eyes began to glisten as tears of joy afresh and remembered anguish fought for supremacy therein. "But how can this be." His voice cracked and he bit his lower lip to hide its trembling.  
  
"Hush now my little baby. There is a bright future for you yet. But you must leave this self-destructive path you are leading. The first step towards that bright future is accepting T'var's help. Remember that always, just as you remember me." The ghost like woman began to fade back into the light from whence she had come. "Fare well my son."  
  
"Mamma! Don't go! Please!" But the phantasm of Selon Vanguard continued to fade out. Tears began to flow down Ulysses cheeks, and he rushed foreword attempting to wrap the pale outline of his mother in a bear hug. His arms gripped open air, for the woman was totally gone before he even got there. "MAMMAA!" Ulysses wailed, the old pain made fresh again.  
  
Cadet Ulysses Vanguard snapped awake, jerking into a sitting position from his place flat on his back. A hoarse whisper slipped from his lips.  
  
"Mamma, why did you go?!" He said, sounding like a little lost child instead of a teenaged Cadet.  
  
T'var looked deep into Ulysses the confused and distraught face. Her mind meld had encountered surprising resistance at first, but the it seemed as if all blocks and locks to her passage were removed. What she saw then shocked her. The depth of this young man's pain and hate were so powerful it was astounding. What was even more astounding was the root cause of both. The Terran Empire had killed both of this boys parents for no better reason than they felt like it. It was times like this that she almost put stock in the Human belief of hunches. She had felt drawn to help this Cadet as if by an outside power, and now that she had seen into his very soul, she realized that it could only be her that could do so. A follower of the teachings of Spock could do no less for a fellow being in trouble. And if Cadet Ulysses Vanguard could harness his desire for retribution with Spock's teachings, he could become a potent ally should the opportunity present itself for the followers of Spock to come out into the open. T'var placed her hand on Ulysses tense shoulder.  
  
"Cadet Vanguard, I have decided to entrust you with a secret. It is a secret that would mean my death if word of it was to get out. I am sure that you have by now at least heard of a half Vulcan, half Human named Spock. I am also sure that you have heard that the Terran Council outlaws his philosophy. I am a follower of that philosophy, and if you give me a chance, I would like to pass it on to you. I believe that you will find it a great help in controlling your violent tendencies towards Starfleet personnel. It will also enable you to hide in plain sight a lot better. Then, when the time is right, you will be in a position to help bring down the Terran Empire and their horrific policies. What do you say?"  
  
Ulysses looked over at her as she kneeled next to him. Part of him wanted to strike out at her like he had so many others. But a greater part of him remembered what he had heard while unconscious. Now it seemed like some half-remembered dream, but he felt strongly compelled to follow its instructions.  
  
"Ma'am." He paused for a second, then sighed. All of the tension seemed to flood away from him in an instant. "Ma'am, I accept your offer."  
  
- Present Day, ISS Athena, Sickbay -  
  
Ulysses shook his head to clear away the memory. There would be time to reminisce after this was all over. Right now 2nd Fleet needed its flagship.  
  
"Admiral, I need you to transfer command of this ship to me. There are a whole lot of bad, bad creatures out there and I need this ship to stop them."  
  
"Of course Mr. Vanguard." T'var's face got a far away look as she tried to sift through her still discombobulated brain to find the proper authorization code. After a few seconds, she thought she found it. "Computer." The machine chirped to acknowledge its being called. "Transfer command of this vessel to Captain Ulysses Vanguard effective immediately and until this order is rescinded by either me or another flag officer." Now came the moment of truth. "Authorization T'var Pi Gamma Three Nine Tango Seven Enable."  
  
"Acknowledged." The sultry female voice said. "Command of the ISS Athena transferred to Captain Ulysses Vanguard as of 0600 ships time." T'var, Ulysses, P'tel and Davenport exhaled breath they hadn't known they had been holding. Ulysses still looked down at T'var with evident concern, but she looked up at him.  
  
"Go Captain. I am counting on you to save my people for me." Ulysses stood there for an endless few seconds, then nodded tersely and stepped away from the biobed.  
  
"Computer." Ulysses said. "Initiate site to site transport. Three to beam to the Flag Bridge." The whine of the transporter filled his ears and his vision flashed bright blue/white. Then he was standing on the flag bridge of the most advanced and powerful warship in the known universe. He tapped his com badge. "Vanguard to Heidberg, what's your status?"  
  
- ISS Athena, Slipstream Core Alpha -  
  
The massive transparent orb that contained the pulsating, lightning like plasma which capped the Quantum Slipstream Core was finally online again. Emergency backup generators dropped out of the circuit to recharge as the massive power of the QSS engine again flooded through the arterial conduits of the monolithic monitor. So redundant was the ships power system that even while on backup, most major systems were still fully online. Hence no one noticed when the mains came back online. Instead of the heartbeat like thrum of a warp core, the QSS core was more felt than heard. Cmdr. Heidberg was by now old hat at QSS engines, for the fleet had been using them for a few years already, and he had been one of the first to train on them. This one's readings showed perfectly within tolerances and at optimal power generation. Walking around the catwalk that surrounded the sunken orb of the QSS core, Clay heard the voice of Ulysses Vanguard cutting through the quiet background noise of the primary engineering section of the Athena.  
  
"I was just about to com you sir. We have success, Slipstream Core Alpha is hot, locked and ready to rock sir." Heidberg said.  
  
"Well done Cmdr. Prepare for a micro jump back to the battle fleet. Bring shields, armor and weapons fully online. Lets see just what this big momma can do. Vanguard out." On the holo display, the gruesome, strangely beautiful carnage of a deep space battle continued. But the balance was about to shift decidedly in the home teams favor. 


	38. Chapter 36

- CHAPTER 36 -  
  
- ISS Athena, Flag Bridge -  
  
Ulysses was striding towards the rooms holo wreathed command chair, with P'tel and Percy making for helm and tactical respectively when a Romulan in fleet uniform leapt from behind one of the stations and grabbed Ulysses. A dagger was quickly placed near his throat and Corval used Ulysses as a shield. There had been no warning of imminent attack and the telepathic weapon had a look of sheer terror on his sweat drenched face. With a blade hovering scant millimeters from his throat, Ulysses dared not try anything. P'tel and Percy were also caught unawares, assuming that since nothing had tried to attack them when they first came aboard the bridge, there was nothing there to attack. Both leveled their compression phaser rifles on Corval as he hid behind Ulysses.  
  
"Nnnnn.ooo one mmmoove!" Corval shouted. Despite his warning, Percy's training took over and he began to sidestep around the circular outer perimeter of the Flag Bridge in an effort to get a clear shot. He, while being a fair shot, was no marksman, and since he couldn't risk stunning the Captain as they needed every hand available to just run the mammoth ship, he needed a clear lane of fire to ensure that only the attacker was stunned, not his captain. He had made about two steps when Corval moved the knife till it was in contact with Ulysses neck. It wasn't hard enough to break the skin, but it was a clear sign for him to stop.  
  
"Do as he says Mr. Davenport." For a man in his predicament, Ulysses Vanguard sounded surprisingly calm. Seeing no other option, Percy stopped, but like P'tel, he never lowered his rifle. If he got a clear shot, he would take it, just as he was sure P'tel would take hers.  
  
"I knn.nnoooo what youuu arrre planning on dooooing! Yooou willll not, ifff you va.aa.alue your Cappptainssss life."  
  
"You need to let us go." Ulysses said. "There is a vitally important job that needs to be done immediately or we are all going to die. Now I am sure that you don't want that to happen, so why don't you put down the knife so we can save both you and ourselves?"  
  
"Yooou, Yyyou are diffff.fferent from themmm." Corval said into Ulysses ear. "You arrre hhhiiiding. something from mmmeee." With a sudden jerk, the arm that holding his waist Ulysses waist went to the side of his face. It was vaguely similar to a Vulcan mind meld touch, but this one was cruder, as if were live wires that were trying to force themselves into the side of his head instead of merely touching it. It felt as if a bomb had gone off inside Ulysses head. It was so intense and unexpected that his knees nearly buckled, and it was only through sheer force of will that Ulysses remained standing. Instantly he knew who this terrified man was. At first Ulysses had thought that it was merely a member of the crew that had been damaged by the apparent Psychonic attack. Now he knew that his hostage taker was in fact the originator of the attack. A quick glance down at the department branch band on his uniform cuff confirmed his suspicion. It was black, the same color as the rest of his black uniform. Only one branch of the fleet used anything like that color scheme, and it was PSI Branch.  
  
Like a wildfire, Corval forced his way into Ulysses mind. He was far more powerful than any telepath Ulysses had encountered. He had no way of knowing that it was due to the extremely close telepathic link that Corval had established with Species 8472 that had supercharged Corval's abilities so. It didn't matter how it had happened though, for the fact remained that Corval was able to see everything Ulysses had hidden from so may people for so long. He was like an open book to the telepath, and Corval was reading every page at a lightening pace.  
  
But like every mind meld, it was a two way street. You just had to know where to look for the other lane. Ulysses did and found it. He plunged into the others chaotic mind, and near instantly knew that Corval was going to die. The backlash of the attack was too severe, and even now it was spreading through what remained of his mind, adding more and more destruction in its wake. In what was left, Ulysses found a sorrow nearly as deep as his own. In a way this being was a kindred spirit. Both had been horribly scarred during their childhood by the Terran Empire, and both now served them. The only difference between them was that Ulysses had gained the relative peace in his tortured soul, while Corval had not. Ulysses put his full effort into sending that peace to Corval.  
  
There was a gasp of surprise as Corval encountered the teachings of Spock and the inner peace they helped bring to Ulysses. A slow smile spread across his tortured face, the muscle movement bringing slight pain because he so rarely used them in this manner. The knife at Ulysses throat was withdrawn and Corval took a step backward.  
  
"Thank you for this precious gift Ulysses Vanguard. You have finally brought my soul peace." Corval said in an awed whisper. For the first time he didn't speak with any impediment. Perhaps it was due to his newfound peace, or perhaps it was due to nearly all of his "training" being obliterated by the Psychonic attack. Ulysses would never find out, for Corval took in a shuddering breath, his eyes rolled back and he began to crumple to the floor. Ulysses reached out, caught him and eased him down onto his back. With a final twitch, Corval laid still and exhaled his last breath.  
  
"Sleep well friend." Ulysses whispered back, then reached out and closed Corval's sightless eyes. Standing up slowly, Ulysses spoke over his shoulder to his officers. "Lest get going." P'tel and Percy were still slightly shocked by the startling turn of events, yet they jerked into motion fairly bolting for their stations. Ulysses settled down into the Flag Bridge's chair and quickly took stock of the situation. 2nd Fleet was on the verge of breaking through the enemy force. They had taken losses, but the enemy had taken less, worse the luck. It was time to change the odds to the home teams favor. With a quick glance at his left terminal, Ulysses knew that the Athena was as battle ready as she was going to be. "Initiate micro jump to these coordinates." He said as he pressed the button that would transmit the desired zone to P'tel's helm station.  
  
"Aye sir. Jumping. now." For a brief time, the holo display showed only the swirling cloud like tube of slipstream, then the Athena was back in normal space in the middle of the enemy force.  
  
- ISS Yamato, Flag Bridge -  
  
Bartlett stared up in awe along with the rest of 2nd Fleet as the Athena popped back into normal space amongst the enemy. For a split second nothing happened, then it was as if a star went supernova amongst the enemy. All 20 Quantum turrets, 100 Phalanx turrets, 30 Type XV Phaser strips, 25 Quad PPC turrets, four foreword and dual rearward Type II Phaser Lances and dual fore and single aft Heavy torpedo launchers on the stupendous ship went into continuous rapid fire. Quantum turrets spat out long strings of blue white death that slammed unerringly into the unprepared enemy. Their smaller siblings, the Phalanx turrets also sent out their less lethal loads nearly one behind the other. Quad Pulse Phaser Cannon turrets hammered away, leaving destruction in their wake as they stitched across the enemy vessels in exquisite precision. They were joined by the heavy phaser arrays that covered every possible arc with multiple strips. Lances of energy, like the lightening bolts of Zeus himself, slammed into ships all around the Athena. Nor were her normal weapons alone, for her heavy weaponry joined in the killing. Beams as thick as a frigate, four foreword, two aft, spewed from the Phaser Lance emitters. Each struck a separate enemy Battleship, each broke it in half. The two fore and single aft heavy photon launcher sent their shuttle sized antimatter loads towards three Battleships. All three targets disappeared as their hulls were enveloped by the torps load of antimatter and annihilated in eye tearing flashes of light. She was like a whirlwind, rolling up all opposition to her battlefield supremacy, leaving only devastation in her wake. The heart of the enemy formation glowed like the heart of a star as the titanic power of the Athena's weapons systems was unleashed. Ship after ship died, some in massive antimatter/matter explosions, some thanks to zero point warheads, others to the ceaseless torrent of pulse phaser bolts and phaser strikes.  
  
Suddenly strikes came in from outside the enemy fleet as well. Erupting out of slipstream, the 200 Soulwolf class Heavy Destroyers came in fighting, sending their own deadly beams into the fray. They represented the current bleeding edge in Imperial Tech, incorporating both a Type II Phaser Lance and QSS drive into a package slightly smaller than an Intrepid. Their hull was specifically designed to make them among the fastest vessels in space, either at Impulse or in Slipstream. Resembling an amalgam of an ancient Oberth, a Prometheus and a Dauntless, they were more nimble than a Defiant, and they used this ability ruthlessly as they rapidly maneuvered clear of each other and cut loose with their powerful main armament. While their smaller drives meant longer recharge times between lance shots, 200 enemy vessels died in the opening barrage. Having salvoed their Phaser Lances, the Soulwolfs closed in to ripple fire quantums, PPCs and phaser arrays, throwing the armament of a current line Battle Cruiser from a mere Destroyer sized platform.  
  
-All was lost. The enemy had lured the fleet into a staggering trap, hitting it with both the supposedly neutralized capital ship and over 200 destroyer-sized vessels that had those damnable energy weapons. All that was left open to the fleet was to destroy as many of the enemy as they could before they died. It wouldn't be long at the rate they were being killed off, but they could still do some damage. Rapidly picking their targets, the fleet concentrated its remaining firepower on just three ships. -  
  
- ISS Athena, Flag Bridge -  
  
Ulysses and Percy cheered while P'tel's eyes were the only feature of her that gave away her own joy at the sight. The holo display and their terminals flashed them the info that 2nd Fleet's reinforcements had arrived. Where the Athena had been kicking the heart out of the enemy formation for what seemed like hours but was merely a few dozen seconds, the Soulwolf's streamed out to kill at the flanks of the enemy fleet. Angry crimson/orange lances of fire nearly the size of the firing ships themselves after leaving their emitter stabbed at the spindle shaped craft.  
  
Then the massive bulk of the Athena jarred as 25 bio-pulse beams slammed into her. Her powerful shields were knocked flat, and the beams clawed at the titanic armor under them, creating long molten furrows in her carapace. A few weapons emplacements were sheared off, stifling their fury, but the others continued to respond in kind, destroying ship after ship with methodical precision as she continued to fire all of her remaining weapons as soon as they reloaded and their capacitors recharged. She was wounded, but not mortally so. She had been designed from the outset to absorb punishment and still function, so the killing continued. Nearly every enemy vessel was either damaged or outright destroyed, and where there had once been a proud fleet there was only drifting wreckage almost thick enough to walk across the battle field on. Most of it still glowed brightly thanks to the stupendous energy released on it. Weak shall perish my ass, Ulysses thought. Then he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Something wasn't right here. Something bad was about to happen. He could feel it in his very bones, just like he could tell that Chriton was going to get his fleet killed because of his own delusions. It wasn't every time he was in trouble that he got these flashes, they seemed to come and go of their own accord, but when they did come, he trusted them implicitly. Even while the last few Species 8472 vessels died under constant phaser and quantum barrage, Ulysses spun his chair around, searching the display for something out of the ordinary. There it was, a lone friendly contact a good ways off. With a flick of his hand, the computer zoomed in on the contact. It was a Constitution class vessel, painted space black, with no windows or running lights visible. Its main deflector stared back at Ulysses like some giant red unblinking eye. Section 31 vessel, Ulysses thought, for no other ships in the fleet used that color scheme. From its oversize torpedo system mounted on her graceful neck, the Connie launched a projectile that disappeared into phase cloak, then the Section Constitution disappeared into phase cloak herself. His plot was empty now, and if he hadn't looked, he would never have seen anything.  
  
"Orders to the fleet, engage slipstream on bearing 333 mark 771 NOW!"  
  
Despite the suddenness of his orders, P'tel had learned from experience that when Ulysses gave them he had a darn good reason. His commands were sent out on the fleet wide tactical channel and all ships turned on course and jumped, for one didn't question orders from the flag, no matter how odd they might sound. They left not a moment to soon, for a bare second after they vacated the area, the Connie's torpedo phased back into realspace. 


	39. Chapter 37

- CHAPTER 37 -  
  
- Section 31 Star Ship 619, Refit Constitution Class, A few minutes earlier -  
  
The deep blue light panels that activated when the Section 31 vessel was under phase cloak burned steadily on the heavily modified Constitution. Some might think that a ship close to fifty years into its second century of service should have been decommissioned long ago. Yet despite the vessels age, there were very few systems currently on board her that were over five years old. Refits of vessels as old as the Constitution class, usually involved nearly a front to back reworking, and the sole remaining original part from the ISS Eagle, NCC-956 was her dedication plaque. Though she now was referred to SSS 619 in official reports and communiqués, her crew still called her Eagle unofficially. While the design might not be as fast as the new Prometheus or Soulwolf, or as safe from concentrated attacks as a Sovereign, it did mount the very latest in Terran Empire tech. It was more for what the Constitution represented in the Terran Empire's consciousness that it remained in limited service. No other vessel was as well or widely known to the people of the Empire, and no other vessel was as loved. The Constitution was the vessel that had won the war with the Klingons and the war with the ISC. No other vessel from that era was so widely produced, and no other vessel before or since had stuck in the peoples minds as a symbol of Imperial might. Hence its continued service, though not usually on the front lines, in Section 31's fleet.  
  
Like all Section 31 vessels, the Connie mounted a multiphaseic cloak, allowing her to remain hidden from any known sensor and pass freely through solid matter. If she wanted to, she could sit in the center of a star with no noticeable effects. She mounted almost as much ablative armor as a Sovereign, giving her neck and nacelle pylons a slight bloated look. Her captain and crew were willing to accept this because it meant that the vulnerable neck and nacelles of a Connie would be much harder targets to damage. A regenerative shield array allowed her to rapidly recharge drained shield arcs. Ablative armor generators rounded out the Constitutions defenses. They were of a new design being tested on Section vessels. It was supposed to give them a near 30 % jump in ablative armor generator stopping power. A quantum slipstream core powered her, allowing her to cross the entire breadth of the Terran Empire in a little over a week. While vessels like the Soulwolf could do it in less than four days, it was still better than the 70 odd years it would take at warp 9. For a heavy cruiser based on a classic design, she was exceptionally well armed, packing Quantum torpedoes, Tri-cobalt tactical subspace torpedoes, multiple Pulse Phaser Cannon Turrets, Type XV phaser strips and a Type I Phaser Lance. That was her normal weaponry. She also usually carried a compliment of six Genesis torpedoes, allowing her to rapidly depopulate a designated solar system. Yet these weren't usual times, for nearly the entire stockpile of Genesis torpedoes had been depleted during the Borg/Imperial war. There were only a handful left in the entire TE, and SSS 619 had been issued one for her mission.  
  
619's Captain, 39 year old Jonathan Breu, still didn't know why Jack Chambers, former head of Section and as close a personal friend as one in the spy/big brother business could have, had ordered him here to destroy 2nd Fleet. He would execute them to the best of his ability, for if he failed, he knew exactly what was in store for him and quite possibly his family as well, but the man's reasoning remained a complete mystery to him. The counter beside him wound steadily downward as 619 crept closer to her unsuspecting quarry.  
  
The tactical plot beeped for attention from the console next to the right of the helm, directly to the front of the Captains command chair. On the screen, distinctly alien vessels began to spew from the portal.  
  
"Species 8472 vessels transiting the Borg Portal Sir." 619's tac officer said, then began to list ship classes using Borg designations for them. It was simplest to do it that way, as everybody that knew about Species 8472 knew about them courtesy of the Borg database. "CIC tentatively has them at one large ship nearly the size of a Bastion, 200 Battleships, 100 Frigates, 150 Destroyers and 50 of another yet unknown class approximately heavy cruiser in size. They are assuming combat formation and are vectoring in on 2nd Fleet."  
  
"Continue on course." Jonathan said. "We will be at the launch point shortly, and then we can leave this god forsaken corner of space and get back to civilization."  
  
Suddenly the ISS Athena slip jumped out of the formation. While the Section Captain's first reaction was that it was due to his ship being detected, the ship jumped even further away and merely sat there. Soon random power fluctuations began to appear within her. The Captain frowned. What had happened that would cause the most powerful vessel in all Starfleet to act like the Athena was acting? No matter though, for his mission remained the same.  
  
"Alter target point to coordinates 559 mark 33." That would put the device into a position to affect both the Athena and the rest of 2nd Fleet. It was fortuitous that it would still be able to affect the Borg Portal, for otherwise the Eagle would have to close in and finish its structure off with more conventional weaponry.  
  
On the view screen, a battle on a massive scale broke out as the two fleets entered attack range, here and there a black disk blotted out the painful flare of matter-antimatter explosions. The Section Captain had to admit that on the whole, 2nd Fleet was accounting itself quite well against the superior weaponry and defenses of Species 8472. But then that was only to be expected of the Empire's premiere strike force for 2nd Fleets officers and crews were some of the best warriors in all of Starfleet. Why Jack had ordered them exterminated was unknown, but ordered it he had, and Jonathan Breu had no choice but to follow them. His conscience that he had thought lost long ago, began to pick at him. What he had done before could be explained away as dealing with traitors to the Empire. But these poor souls had done nothing. They were shining bastions to what humankind could accomplish. And they were about to be stabbed in the back by one of their own.  
  
Then the Athena popped back into slipstream and reappeared amongst the enemy fleet. It was truly a sight to behold. She became a whirlwind of death, meeting out her vengeance on the enemy fleet, striking in every possible direction, cutting down entire squadrons of the enemy in a single pass of her mighty weaponry. Then 200 Soulwolf class Heavy Destroyers dropped out of slipstream and engaged the enemy fleet as well. Where the Athena was a Great White Shark, they were hungry Piranha, eating away at the outside of the fleet, killing ships left and right with their phaser lances and powerful quantums and phaser strips. It was an eerily beautiful sight, brilliant beams and torpedoes crisscrossing the star speckled ebony of space. Jonathan shook himself out of his awed silence. Now it looked as if 2nd Fleet would actually win the engagement, for Species 8472's numbers were dropping steadily. Within a few minutes they'll have destroyed all of the enemy, and then who knew what they would be doing. Right now was the perfect time to strike, while 2nd Fleet's attention was focused on the enemy and not on unexpected friendly targets that appeared far away from the battle.  
  
"Alter aim point again, coordinates 503 mark 02." He was going to kill nearly a half a million loyal servants of the Empire, what were a few more unexpected Fleet personnel and their starships next to that. "Increase speed to full impulse." The counter beside him began to count down even faster as the time to the launch point dropped faster and faster.  
  
The remaining Species 8472 vessels struck back even as they died. Their powerful main armament lashed out and four vessels died. The three remaining Wraiths and a Galaxy simply disappeared in a violent clash of bio- pulse beams as they were targeted by close to 25 ships each. They never even knew what happened because they were targeted and attacked so fast the human brain didn't have time to compute what was going on till after it had already happened. The Athena herself bucked as a similar number of beams clawed at her. Great molten strips were gouged in her armor, and here and there a few managed to pierce through her nearly impenetrable hide. Those piercing left trails of debris, bodies and vaporized plasma in the ship's wake, yet she scarcely slowed down her attack. If anything, the last hurrah of the Species 8472 fleet merely caused 2nd Fleet to speed up in its destruction of them.  
  
"Coming up on launch point now sir." The tac officer looked over his shoulder, his eyes pleading with his captain not to give the order. Jonathan couldn't meet his eyes. Instead he stared at the Genesis torpedo's control console and spoke.  
  
"Drop phase cloak and launch the device." For a brief instant he thought that he would have a mutiny on his hands. Then after a seeming eternity the Eagle's tac officer turned and followed his orders. The bridge's normal lighting came up as the faint powering down sound of the phase cloak was heard.  
  
"Device away." There was anger in those words, along with no small part of self-loathing. Jonathan couldn't blame him, for those were the two feelings competing for primacy within his own self.  
  
"Recloak and set course 003 mark 86." The blue light panels reappeared and the bridge's lighting went back down to its cloak operation levels. On the viewer, the bright green man made pin point of light that marked the Genesis torpedo streaked away from the Eagle. A split second later it to phase cloaked, disappearing from even the best sensors as it closed with its target like some vampire in the night.  
  
Then disaster struck. For some inexplicable reason the entire body of 2nd Fleet turned and jumped to slipstream. The few scattered functional biowarships of Species 8472 that remained among the expanding cloud of wreckage of their fellows had scant seconds to try and deduce this latest turn of events before the Genesis torpedo phased back into normal space. There was a brilliant flash of light that caused the main viewer to automatically dampen its brightness to protect the eyes of the bridge crew. Then as the light faded, where there had been only wreckage, a few scattered enemy warships and a former Borg station and research facility, a new planetoid was taking shape. Veins of fire crisscrossed its surface, then a solid thick wave of orange yellow flame enveloped the new planetoid, moving from pole to pole. Where there had been only rock and vacuum before, behind the wave life and atmosphere sprang forth. While this couldn't last due to the feeble light from the systems tiny solar furnace being to little to keep water liquid, for a brief time, there was life made from lifelessness. Former Borg System A875 34B9 gained a new spacial body. How that would alter the other lifeless planets the system contained would be sorted out later, if at all. All that mattered to Jonathan Breu was that he had failed Jack Chambers, and that both he and his family were going to pay the price because of it.  
  
Without a word, Jonathan pulled out his dagger and slit his own throat. He hoped that with his own suicide, Jack would spare his family. It was a slim chance, for despite Jack's seeming affability and friendliness, there was a hidden ruthlessness and cold-blooded single-minded pursuit of power that made him virtually unable to tolerate failure of his orders. While his appetite for revenge and power might be sated with news of Jonathan's own death, it very well might not. And Jonathan had no intention of witnessing the depravity Jack Chambers would undoubtedly employ on his family while forcing him to watch. No, there was no way he would give Jack the pleasure of seeing the terror, pain and helplessness that he would experience if, nay when that would happen. 


	40. Chapter 38

- CHAPTER 38 -  
  
- Flag Bridge, ISS Athena -  
  
Ulysses Vanguard sat in the Flag Bridge's command chair, absently scratching at the Borg exoskeleton that encased his left wrist. There had been a few tense moments when 2nd Fleet discovered that they had been ordered away from the portal and the remaining few Species 8472 bio ships by a very junior Captain. Yet when they had returned to the system a few minutes later, they saw a dying planetoid where there should have been a Borg R&D facility. One thought crossed all of their minds in an instant. For what ever reason, a Genesis device had been detonated in the space they had just recently vacated. If they had not followed Ulysses orders when they did, they would now be part of that slowly freezing planet. While they were now grateful for Ulysses commands, they were still slightly ruffled that an officer who had been a Captain for only a handful of days had ordered the entire Fleet around. Fortunately there was no longer any need for battle and Admiral T'var would be up and around in a few minutes, so the rest of 2nd Fleet's officers had decided to await her decision before they did anything. Already, she had issued an order to return to the nearest Imperial Starbase for repairs. There was nothing left in the system for them to either guard or enter through, so what was the point of hanging around the lifeless system that had nothing of interest to both Starfleet Command and the Terran Council. The extreme stresses that a Genesis device detonation placed on normal space and subspace alike were most likely the cause of the portal's collapse. Whatever the reason for its disappearance though, the simple fact remained that both the Borg complex and the portal it generated were now gone. This meant that the Terran Empire had no further interest in the system, and more interest on leaving for in most cases badly needed repairs. Ships that were severely damaged were taken under tow by their still intact brethren and 2nd Fleet again jumped to slipstream, this time steering a course for Imperial space.  
  
-The Race's reinforcements converged on the area of fluidic space that was supposed to contain the enemy's artificial warp point. All that was present was the constantly shifting green bio fluid that permeated Species 8472's realm. What had been the only portal to the Enemies space was now closed again. Yet the endeavor hadn't been a complete loss. The new enemies had died even faster than the old ones, which was valuable information to have for upcoming battles. What was even more fortunate was that a large amount of data had been gathered by the primary invasion fleet and quickly sent back for the Race's R&D to pour over. It would prove highly useful to the Race's ongoing attempt to generate their own artificial warp points. And once that research was complete, the Race could attack without worrying about keeping an enemy portal generator functioning, for it could enter enemy space at will whenever and where ever it chose. It would take some time, but one thing the Race most certainly was was patient. The time for invasion and retribution would come in due course. And then the enemy would pay the price for unprovoked attacks on the Race. -  
  
- ISS Athena, Fighter Deck Alpha -  
  
Cmdr. Vic McDermott surveyed the scorched and heavily pitted underside of his Cobra fighter with a mixture of awe and terror. The ablative armor coating had served its designed purpose, flaking away and sacrificing itself to save the fighter beneath, but only by a hair had it succeeded. Here and there, the force of the explosions that had claimed so many of 2nd Fleet's fighter strength had gouged past the armor and into the innards of his fighter, leaving long tears in its skin. Melted wiring hung down like multicolored vines in a jungle, and the acrid stench of burned synthetics was nearly overpowering. Parts of the underside still glowed a faint red from the extreme force of the explosions showing heat shimmer rays and emitting pings and pops as they cooled. Seeing the true extent of his fighters damage made Vic vow to find the engineer responsible for the Cobra's design and buy him as many beers as he desired. For all intents and purposes the fighter should have flown itself apart in both the dogfight with Species 8472's destroyers and frigates and the frantic, erratic course to the nearest Imperial vessel. It just happened to be the ISS Athena, and his fighter and the few other survivors he had picked up along the way had just completed their dock when the ship jumped to slipstream. Thank god for the auto docking tractors Vic thought, else there wouldn't have been time to come onboard before the Athena left.  
  
Vic's knees were still wobbly from just how close he came to becoming part of a new planet. Damn but he needed a drink. Fortunately the VF-117 is, or rather had been given that he was the sole surviving member from the flight, based on the Athena, so he knew that there was a bottle of Romulan Ale secreted away in his quarters that would do the trick quite nicely. Tossing his vac helmet into the cockpit, he began making his way to the exit when he heard a voice behind him.  
  
"Hey you!" Said a female voice still sheathed in a flight suit. Vic turned to see what was wrong now.  
  
"What do you want?" Vic said in a slightly sour voice as his deep hazel eyes bored into the pilot that was keeping him from his ale.  
  
"Just to thank you for saving my bacon back there!" the woman said as she released her helmet latches and removed it to reveal a plain yet oddly intriguing face beneath. Has to be her eyes that do it, Vic thought. They were two blue orbs that seemed to stare deep into a person. The woman extended her gloved hand which Vic clasped. After a few surprisingly strong pumps on the woman's part, she spoke again. "Lt. Cmdr. Jessica Evron, VF-2709 "Black Aces" off of the Yamato."  
  
"Cmdr. Vic McDermott, VF-117 "Dirty Devils" off of the Athena. About that, don't worry yourself none. I'm sure that you would have done the same if our positions were reversed. Just glad I could help you out." Vic said in his usual modest way. He seemed drawn towards the Lt. Cmdr., and he wasn't exactly sure why. Perhaps it was that he was still coming down from the adrenaline induced high of combat that was causing it. Perhaps it was the bold slap in the face that fighter pilots had the lowest life expectancy of any other branch of the army that was causing his heart to race and driving him to live the time he had to the fullest.  
  
"You sure aren't the usual fighter jock are you. Most of us are so full of ourselves that if we get a little praise for doing something good we stand around and preen like some puffed up rooster!" Miss Evron said with a slow sly smile that caused her cheeks to dimple. When she smiled her looks went from ordinary to extraordinary, at least in Vic's opinion. "Oh well, I find this modesty surprisingly refreshing. Can I buy you a drink at where ever the bar is on this floating behemoth?"  
  
"Actually I was about to go to my quarters for a drink." Vic said, then paused a beat before continuing. "Would you want to come there instead? I can guarantee you that the alcohol is of much higher caliber than that dish water they serve at the ships bar."  
  
"Sounds great!" Jessica said with another smile.  
  
"Excellent!" Vic said. His stomach did a flip flop that was worse than anything gravity did while he was maneuvering his fighter. Gotta be because of the adrenaline he though, gotta be. No other reason for me to be acting like a young whelp in heat. "Follow me then."  
  
The trip though the massive ship passed largely in silence. Vic entered his quarters and opened up a drawer, pulling out a bottle of pale blue, faintly phosphorescing, liquid and two tumblers. Pouring a generous amount into both of them, he passed Jessica one and raised the other.  
  
"To fallen comrades!" Both of them sobered at Vic's toast as they remembered just how many of their friends and fellow pilots had died today. Vic slammed the liquid down his throat. It went down deceptively smooth, then detonated like a photon grenade in the bowels of his stomach. A warm feeling suffused him as the alcohol worked its way into his systems. As if of their own accord, his hands went to Jessica's waist and pulled her to him. She embraced him roughly and the proceeded to kiss each other deeply. What the kiss rapidly developed into resembled more of a frantic wrestling match than anything else, but afterward both laid in each others arms as their exhausted and spent bodies drifted off to the blissful oblivion of sleep.  
  
- ISS Athena, Flag Bridge, that same time -  
  
Fleet Admiral T'var strode onto her bridge with her usual flowing Vulcan grace. All traces of the Psychonic attacks backlash effects had been cleaned up. As every minute passed, more and more of the hundreds of thousands of personnel that manned the great ship were becoming their old selves as the EMH's and revived medical personnel did their work. Just the same, close to 4000 had been killed either by the backlash's effects on their minds or by those who had been driven insane by it and close to 9000 had been injured due to it.. A further 1563 had been killed during the Species 8472 attacks, with around 3000 injured to varying degrees. It was safe to say that while things were improving, the Athena's medical bays were still swamped.  
  
The rest of the fleet was largely in better shape, with only five vessels in tow. But that was due mainly to the fact that bio-pulse beams tended to outright destroy an Imperial vessel rather than wound it like a normal engagement would have done. This was both good and bad. While it increased the total dead, it did allow the other ships in the fleet to handle the injured from the Athena amongst themselves with considerably more ease thanks to their own lack of injured. That seemed to be the hallmark of a Species 8472 engagement. You either ended up dead or not. Your ship was either gutted or left largely intact. Injuries weren't likely to occur with the kind of firepower they put out.  
  
She turned to the assembled officers and crewmen arrayed in a precise twin rank in front of her. They were some of the survivors from the ISS Hopolite, and both she and all of 2nd Fleet owed them a debt of gratitude. Not only had they gotten the flagship working and back into the fight, they had also seen the threat of the Genesis torpedo when no other vessel had. That alone had saved 2nd Fleet from becoming part of the new planet that was now far behind them.  
  
"Captain Vanguard, it is my great pleasure that I am recommending both you and all of your valiant officers and crew for medals due to your actions here today. I am sure that Starfleet Command and the Terran Council will endorse this recommendation wholeheartedly. On behalf of all of 2nd Fleet, I thank you. Now in the interim until we can return to a starbase, I am asking you and your crew to fill spots that the recent combat has left vacant in 2nd Fleet's command structure. To be specific I would like you Mr. Vanguard to assume the role of my Flag Captain, with Miss P'tel as your first officer. Engineering has also been thoroughly muddled, so the Athena also needs a capable chief engineer, and I can think of none better suited than Mr. Heidberg, as he has aptly demonstrated the capability to do the job. The rest of your crew and officers may be assigned as you see fit Captain. Do you accept my offer?" The former officers of the Hopolite stood speechless in front of T'var  
  
This was a catch 22, for while Ulysses didn't have any desire to command such a massive vessel, he could do little other than accept now that the offer had been placed on the table. To do otherwise would be both a slap in the face of his mentor and a most likely a career halter. Starfleet wasn't in the habit of offering new commands, even temporary ones, to those who refused them. His head swimming with the new responsibilities looking after a spacedock sized starship with a crew of over 35,000 souls was a truly daunting task for one who had only recently advanced to the rank of Captain. Yet T'var was right, for both himself and his crew had shown that they had what it took to run the massive Bastion class vessel, and with so many of her normal crew injured or dead, she needed every able bodied set of hands she could get. And who better to trust with both her flagship and life than a fellow follower of Spock's teachings. It was entirely logical reasoning, and Ulysses hadn't really expected anything less from the Vulcan. Yet just the same his human instincts screamed that he wasn't yet ready for this. Then a quiet voice filled his ears, one that, and not for lack of trying, he hadn't heard in years.  
  
"Trust T'var Uly." Then the voice was gone again. Ulysses shook his head slightly as if trying to clear it, then turned to look at T'var standing at attention with every bit of military precision that had been drilled into him at San Francisco Academy.  
  
"Ma'am, it would be both my honor and pleasure to accept these responsibilities until such time as they aren't needed anymore."  
  
T'var almost smiled in very unVulcanlike fashion.  
  
"Then you and your people had best take your stations. There is a lot of work piled up and it's 56 hours and 23 minutes to Starbase 665. You have until that time to get as much of our damaged systems online as possible."  
  
"Aye Ma'am!" He said to T'var, then turned to his subordinates. "You heard the Admiral, lets get this beast back in fighting trim!" 


	41. Chapter 39

- CHAPTER 39 -  
  
- Terra, Sol System, The Octagon -  
  
The massive underground warren that was the wartime nerve center for all of Starfleet was abuzz with frantic activity. Every sensor and weapons system in the entire Sol System was online and itching for a target to blast from the face of the Galaxy. All commercial and private traffic into and out of Sol had been halted. No one dared try, for a few had panicked when the massive fortifications and weapons emplacements had come online and began targeting their vessels. Panic wasn't something that was conducive to living in a situation like Starfleet's First Fleet and Sol's Orbital Weapons Platforms and Battle Stations found them selves in. Any deviation from orders caused the offending vessel to be instantly vaporized. After seeing six of their fellows disappear as an avalanche of phaser lances slammed down on them was enough to ensure that even those who panicked didn't do anything suicidal. While some of those panicking ships could have housed follow on attacks, most of the Starfleeters were thinking more of revenge than taking prisoners that could lead them to the root of this plot. Loosing close to 2.4 billion people in a single strike tends to cloud even the most levelheaded officer, and most of those in command were far from level headed. They wanted blood, and they didn't care if a few innocents got caught up in their search.  
  
Even now, massive boarding parties transported over from the hovering starships and battle stations were sifting through all of the vessels now holding station in the "safe" corridors into and out of Sol. The largely unarmed, and even in the rare cases when they were they were at a distinct firepower disadvantage, crew and passengers on the halted ships were held at gunpoint by power armored Fleet Marines. While a few of them were doing this, the rest were ruthlessly and unswervingly searching the ship from top to bottom. Only a few were naive or dumb enough to try and argue with the faceless Marines as they proceeded to search through everything. Those that did argue ended up puddles of meaty goo as the hypervelocity flechettes tore apart flesh and bone alike. Their deaths, like those of the errant and unlucky starships before them, served as a cold example to those left living. No one questioned the Marines after seeing the ghastly crimson sprays thrown up on nearby bulkheads. Images from Marine Squad Leaders was transmitted back to Terra and the Octagon, where it was added to the steadily growing flood of information that was rushing into the Terran Empire's military nerve center.  
  
Spaceborn sensor array data was combined with on the spot Marine observation and sensor data to give the military brass safe in the Octagon exacting pictures of what each ship in Sol was carrying. It was soon apparent due to the sheer number of Marines and sensor platforms available in Sol that the single cargo vessel that had launched the attack was the only ship that had been carrying hidden weapons. This was good news for the military commanders, for it meant that the attack was possibly an isolated incident. But the bad thing was that there was currently no political entity to report the news to. The political leadership of the Terran Empire had been vaporized along with the rest of San Francisco, so till another election could be called, it was the military that was in charge. That power was to be short lived.  
  
While the aftereffects of the mauler attack on San Francisco were still being felt, like global earthquakes and avalanches, massive tsunamis crashing in on coastal areas throughout the Pacific and huge fires burning out of control throughout most of California, Jack Chambers had not remained to watch his handiwork. He had beamed to one of Sections orbital stations and picked up some friends. He then transported to the top secret Octagon with a heavily armed entourage of Section 31 bodyguards. No one alive other than a select few and those who lived in it knew the precise location of the Octagon. Built over 8000 stories underground with virtually self-sustaining resources and extremely limited covert contact with the surface, it was designed to keep key military staff safe in the event of a surprise attack, allowing for an unbroken chain of command if there was a crisis. As such, it was the most logical place for Jack Chambers to come to.  
  
While the transporter operators were a bit surprised when they received a diplomatic transport signal from a Section 31 station, they had little choice but to accept, for they used all of the right pass codes. And even if it was some plot to introduce a strike team into the Octagon, they could only transport over 12 people at a time and only after the operator on the Octagon's side entered in his authorization and password. With the close to 200 Army Power Armored soldiers housed at the base, plus the automated defenses and the transporters own biofilters and sensors, there was no harm in letting the transport request through. There was the usual half hum, half whine as 12 figures materialized on the pad in the relatively Spartan transporter room over 17 km underground. Seven were power-armored figures with Section 31's crimson and black markings. They encircled a human that was clad in the cowled pale gray robe of a Terran Council Member. The synthetic muscles of the power armor suits whined softly as grav guns with under-slung grenade launchers and two Pulse Phaser Heavy Carbines swung to aim at the two transporter techs. There was enough weaponry in front of him to chew through the reinforced wall behind him like a hot knife through butter, let alone the mere flesh and blood bodies in front of it, and the minds behind the weapons would be perfectly willing, possibly even eager, to fire. The two transporter techs blanched, but the arrayed firepower that was now pointed their way was only very small part of the reason behind it.  
  
Regular Section 31 goons were bad enough, but they weren't what sent shivers of terror deep into the techs soul. Two of the party were humans clad in different style armor. It wasn't designed so much as for direct combat, though it did that job as well as a normal armor suit. It was styled more for imposing terror and fear in others, with knife and spine like projections coming from the shoulders and arms. With its cammo skin could change its pattern and color to match any surrounding almost seamlessly, it was usually set to a bottomless black except for the area around where the human's eyes would be. There it showed two red flaming orbs. Two remaining beings that completed the party weren't even human. They were mostly canine, resembling a cross between a Japanese bear hunting Akita and a Wolf, but that was hidden beneath specially designed armor suits that matched their partner's in styling and cammo pattern. They were Furies, enhanced and modified humans psychically bonded to enhanced and modified canine partners. They were, if the story's could be believed, experts in all forms of combat and infiltration and pursuit. They tracked their targets for weeks on end, never resting, never eating or drinking, and they possessed telepathic and psycokinetic powers that boggled the mind. Where the others combat suits were general combat variants, the Furies were specially designed to give increased strength, power, sensor ability and stealth capabilities than the normal suit of power armor. It was even rumored that the canines were every bit as smart as their human companions. Section only used them for special assignments, and they had never failed in a mission tasked to them. Anyway you cut it, the two Fury pairs were very, VERY bad news for anyone that crossed the Terran Empire.  
  
"C.ccouncil Member Chambers!" one of the techs gulped out past the icy fear that gripped his throat. Wiping sweat drenched palms on the legs of his uniform, he continued. "It is good to see you alive sir! We thought that the entire council had been wiped out when they took out San Fran." Had to say "they" because as of yet the true perpetrators of the dastardly sneak attack remained unknown.  
  
"Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated." Chambers said, his usually Vulcan like passivity giving way to a ghost of a wry smile. Despite the non hostile response to their arrival, the armored body guards that Chambers had procured from somewhere never dropped their guard. Even in the transporter room in the Octagon itself, they kept searching the room and peering through its walls with their suit's sensors. "Lets go to Ops Frank."  
  
"Yes sir!" came the computer-generated sounding voice through the suits external speaker. Two of the body guards strode cautiously yet speedily out into the corridor. Their sensors peered down the hall and through nearby bulkheads, searching for anything that could pose a threat. Only after they decided that the path was clear did they send the go ahead back to the rest of the party via scrambled subspace coms. Where the normal power armored goons and even Jack Chambers boots themselves made sound when they hit the carpeted deck, the Furies made no sound at all. One would think that close to 400 pounds of armor and equipment would generate some noise when it moved, but the seven foot tall Furies and their Hellhounds that came up to the armor suit's waist were silent as wraiths. The party fell in around Jack Chambers, with a Fury pair in front and one behind him and the rest englobing the five of them. From their body language, even the Section 31 goons were leery of the Furies. That spoke volumes for Section 31 goons never showed no fear in any normal situation. Then the transporter room doors closed and both techs nearly fell to the floor with relief.  
  
The party moved down the hall till they came to a double set of transparent aluminum doors emblazoned with the logo of the Terran Empire surrounded by an octagon. The two guards on point entered the room, sweeping their sensors throughout the heavily staffed Ops. Many of the junior officers and ratings that staffed the command center looked up in alarm as two heavily armed power suited Section 31 operatives searched the room. High Admiral Gabriel Hayes, his dark black skin contrasting drastically with his graying hair and brilliant white and gold Flag uniform, noted their entry into his command. Gabriel Hayes had risen through the ranks of Starfleet, distinguishing himself as one of the best military commanders in history. That was why he was CO of the Octagon. It was his responsibility to find military ways to put the Council's directives into actual practice, and in an emergency or time of war, direct the vast fleets of starships so they succeeded in their objectives.  
  
It was fortunate for the transporter room's staff that they had already commed him as to just who was visiting. As a result, he was not as surprised as the rest of his staff. Just the same he was irritated, though he didn't show it, that he now had to hand over control back to the politician. He was of the opinion that what had just occurred to San Francisco was due in large part to political meddling in what were rightly military affairs. Knowing who was to come in next, Gabriel lifted his slightly paunchy figure out of his command chair and stood at attention in front of it on the raised daisies in the middle of Ops facing the main entryway's transparent doors. Through them would shortly enter the most powerful man in the galaxy, for due to the fact that the rest of the Council was destroyed, all of its collective power fell to him as the lone surviving political entity in the Terran Empire's government. But that wasn't the true extent of it either. Due to the method of the Council's demise, the Empire's constitution granted special powers to any surviving Council member for the duration of the conflict.  
  
Originally, when the Terran Empire was still a republic with democratically elected Councilors, this rule had been meant as a method to ensure that there would be no disruptive internal power struggles till an outside threat had been satisfactorily dealt with. But like most laws from that time, the Council had changed them to better suit its aims. Being under near continuous war footing almost since its inception, the Terran Empire's Council had found it surprisingly easy to modify the constitution to its own ends under the guise of better defending the Empire. Thanks to creative propaganda and her enemies own aggressive, xenophobic and expansionistic tendencies, the citizens of the empire were all to willing to give the Council its way if it meant better defenses for them. Only a few looked deeper and actually deduced the reasoning and true implications of the new amendments to the constitution. They were quietly dealt with, either through being paid to keep their silence or through more direct and final means if that didn't prove enough of an incentive.  
  
As a result, the current Council was a ghost of the bastion of democracy and freedom it once was. Instead of being democratically elected by all Imperial citizens, the Council members had made their post hereditary and subject only to the approval of the rest of the Council. Over the years, the Council had also steadily brought the reigns of power and control farther into their grasp, adding internal police to weed out "traitors" to the government and creating various organizations who's sole purpose was to keep the populace from learning the truth. Starfleet, basically the sole organization that could possibly oppose the Council was made subservient to it, with head strong commanders that chose to ignore the Council's wishes punishable by death. A few well placed propaganda campaigns featuring insane or power-hungry commanders unleashing their devastating fire power on defenseless planets was enough to ensure that that amendment would pass with nary a hiccup. In the end, the Council had become greedy and corrupt, serving its own self interests more than the Empire's. That was why it continually entered into wars, especially ones on grand scales. It kept the populace's attention focused on external threats which both kept their attention off of the Council's excesses and actively encouraged them to go along with the Council's wishes for more control. The police state that now was the Terran Empire hadn't sprung up overnight, but been created by a continual erosion of power from her citizens on the part of the Council.  
  
Among themselves, the Councilors were equals, with the Chairmanship position merely a first among equals. It was rotated through the members every four years, with names of those eligible for it selected at random by a computer. Votes on major issues were decided on basis of simple majority. Abstention wasn't allowed, and there were always an odd number of Council Members to prevent ties. Even though they were technically equal, both in power and voting ability (one per Council Member), there was splits along certain lines that a savvy Councilor could use. Greg Betare had used one such split between the core world Council members and their colony counterparts in order to keep a thorough investigation of the recent ship disappearances from occurring. Now the Terran Council's vast power base had been concentrated and expanded for two individuals, and both of them had set up the current crisis for just such a reward 


	42. Chapter 40

- CHAPTER 40 -  
  
- The Octagon, Terra, Sol System -  
  
Having not seen any cloaked assassins or hidden weapons other than the ceremonial yet fully functional daggers and type 2 phasers that were part of the usual Starfleet uniform, the point guards again transmitted the all clear to the rest of the party. A second stir swam through the room as the rest of the party entered Ops. Part of it was finding out that a Council Member was still alive, but most of it was generated by the Furies that accompanied him. Though the entire Terran Empire knew of their existence, very few were unfortunate or unlucky enough to encounter them in person, and those that did usually didn't live very long. As a result, many of the deeds attributed to them were largely hearsay and tall tales made up to scare children into eating their vegetables. Just the same, no one was about to doubt that Furies would do very bad things to those whom were branded as enemies to the Terran Empire.  
  
"Well Admiral, what can you tell me?" Chambers said. He schooled his face into a concerned look, the better to play the part of the distraught politician. Jack needn't explain about what he wanted to know either. Old Momma Hayes didn't raise no fool, and only a fool would have to ask for clarification as to just what Jack wanted to know. As he spoke, the Section 31 troops moved into key locations around ops while two of their number strode out to guard the entryway. Only the two human Furies and their paired Hellhounds remained near him. It was evident that they had become his personal bodyguard for as long as he desired their presence. Despite expecting the Furies, expectation and experiencing their presence firsthand were two very different animals. While his fear was slightly irrational, knowing that he had done nothing against the Empire and thus had nothing to be afraid of, he felt it just the same. Perhaps the Furies were messing with his mind, making him feel fear where he otherwise wouldn't? Who could say for sure where those monstrosities were concerned. Shaking himself, Admiral Hayes spoke in his usual deep, rumbling near growl. He was slightly surprised and proud that he managed to let no sign of his fear show in his voice.  
  
"So far sir, not much. We know that the perpetrator of this atrocity was a large bulk cargo carrier ICS Pearl Harbor, Security Ident 133394-Alpha-Beta- Twin-7946." As he spoke, he turned and typed in a few commands into his left-hand control panel. Above him, the massive holo display popped on and showed a rotating 3D view of the Luna Corporate Shipyards C-5000 class cargo vessel. She was basically a long tube, with crew quarters and control systems mounted in front, engines at the rear, and massive cargo containers docked to radial spokes that jutted out at regular intervals down her arrow like hull. While she was ugly as hell, she was perfectly suited for her design purpose, transporting bulk cargo across the vast reaches of the Terran Empire efficiently and as cost effectively as possible. Her cargo pods could house an entire Sovereign inside with room to spare, and she had 12 of them, 6 on the front cargo spokes, 6 on the rear. It was easy to see how such a vessel could hide a weapon in those pods. With a little creative ECM, Hayes thought that it could very well be possible for them to hide an entire warship in them, let alone a single weapon system. But it would have required a top of the line military grade ECM suite to do so, and as far as Fleet Intel knew no civilian agency or criminal one had a top of the line ECM suite. Chalk up one more goof in a steadily growing list of screwups on Intel's part.  
  
"Wait, did you say Pearl Harbor?" Jack interrupted.  
  
"Yes sir. Imperial Cargo Ship Pearl Harbor. Does that mean something to you sir?" Jack snorted.  
  
"Quite frankly I am surprised that you don't know the analogy yourself Admiral, as it refers to an event in your historical bailiwick. Look it up later, under ancient Terran naval history, World War Two, America, Hawaii. Continue."  
  
"Yes sir." Gabriel Hayes entered another series of commands into his terminal and the holo changed to show the Pearl Harbor near the outskirts of the Sol System. "From what we have been able to deduce so far, this is what happened. The ICS Pearl Harbor exited the Sol Beta subspace corridor 20 hours four minutes ago. It was an orderly transit, and everything seemed normal. Her ident and authorization were entirely in order, and the deep scans initiated by the outer perimeter battle stations showed no irregularities. She was authorized to enter the inbound transit lane 20 hours one minute ago." As Gabriel spoke the holo above him shifted as the vast cargo hauler entered the long line up of vessels headed insystem. Moving foreword rapidly in time, it passed through the intervening security layers without incident as well. "She entered Terra orbit roughly an half an hour ago, still everything appeared to be normal. Now is where things get interesting." The holo changed again. Instead of the Pearl Harbor floating serenely against the globe of Terra, a series of explosions wracked her, causing most of her cargo canisters to drift away from the severely damaged vessel. "Roughly 25 minutes ago the Pearl Harbor issued a mayday signal. It was thought that she had had a catastrophic engineering problem, but this is now known to be assuredly not the case."  
  
The detached cargo canisters drifted free on seemingly mindless courses till the simulation paused again. "It was at this point that the Armageddon class Imperial Battle Station Guadalcanal picked up a faint sensor wrongness about the cargo pods."  
  
"Wrongness Admiral?"  
  
"That is how the watch officer that caught it described it to me sir. Apparently it was mostly a haunch that something was wrong, so he initiated a deep scan of the cargo canisters just to be safe. It, combined with the pod's dropping their own deception ECM allowed their true nature to be revealed, but unfortunately it was to late to do much about the situation."  
  
"Oh yes, how convenient that an error on this scale was only caught after there was nothing to stop it." Jack said, anger seeping into his voice, playing his part to the hilt.  
  
"I understand your anger sir, believe me I share it. Those responsible for this oversight in our defenses are being rounded up as we speak to answer for it. But the regrettable part of it is, about the only way we could have found out about the hidden weapons would be to physically board and search every cargo hold and crew compartment of every vessel entering Sol. This group, and we are still trying to determine exactly who they are, managed to get a hold of a current military grade ECM suite. It is only this fact that allowed them to pull their attack off. Any thing older or less capable wouldn't have been able to spoof the Battle Station's and Shipboard sensors. Shall I continue with the known facts sir?" Jack merely sent an irritated nod his way.  
  
"After the Guadalcanal's deep scan was complete, the watch officer immediately realized what was up and declared a Case Zulu. It was at this time that the mysterious canisters dropped their ECM and lined up on their targets for final acquisition." The display shifted again and the time stamp indicated 21 minutes ago. The cargo canisters moved slightly along their drifting trajectories, then slowed to a stop as till then hidden thrusters activated. Seconds later, the bluish white and sliver lances of destruction vomited from the cargo pods. "They then proceeded to launch a powerful energy weapon of an unknown type. The damage they did to the space based installations was hideous, surpassing even a phaser lance in destructive potential. The attack resulted in the outright destruction of a few Armageddon class Battle Stations and severe damage wrought against the Bengal class Spacedock, to say nothing of the loss in starships and personnel." On the display, the final beam to fire sent its glittering sword of death towards Terra herself, charging down to the western coast of North America.  
  
"The final weapon attacked San Francisco, striking the Council Tower nearly straight on thanks to the cargo pod's orbit after separating form the Pearl Harbor. Seconds later the Pearl Harbor was killed by the combined firepower of three Armageddon class Battle Stations, one Wraith, four Sovereigns, two Galaxies, five Akira's, 10 Intrepids and 20 Soulwolfs. There wasn't much left of the wreckage for analysis." The display showed the attack in vivid detail, for it had been recorded by a multitude of sensor sets in Terra orbit and beyond. Then it shifted again to show only Terra. The display was centered on what had been San Francisco.  
  
What had been a vibrant metropolis, capital of the Empire, seat of power, home to 2.2 billion souls was now a rapidly expanding version of hell on earth. Seen from orbit, the true scale of the destruction was far more evident to Jack than his ringside seat had been. The smoke, ash and pulverized rock grew like some malevolent cloud to cover most of the state. The dust kicked up by the initial compression wave of fast moving air was even visible. Fires appeared throughout the state as flaming hunks of stone and building rained down. You could actually see a growing arch of wave form in the Pacific as it raced across the ocean. Asian and Australian cities were the hardest hit, some of them not getting their perimeter shields online in time. Those who had been faster off the mark or just plain luckier were treated to a massive wall of water 200 feet high lashing onto the shimmering protection of their defensive shields. A few unfortunate sections didn't get them up in time, letting the vast wave crash inland till it came up against the next layer of shields. Destruction was severe, and the loss of life which was already in the billions was bound to climb higher still once there was time to fully take stock.  
  
"Why did the beam even affect the Council Tower? It's shields are supposed to be fully operational at all times."  
  
"While we don't know the cause yet sir, sensor logs show that her shields were dropped moments before the attack. I doubt that the true party responsible behind that little act of sabotage will ever be discovered though, for whatever evidence of his or her crime that remained behind was obliterated along with the rest of San Fran."  
  
"Are SAR operations underway? There are still many civilians trapped down there."  
  
"We know sir, and yes they are. They are being hampered by the large amounts of debris that the attack threw up into the atmosphere though. It is tough for sensors and transporters to get an accurate lock on anything down there, so we have to send in teams in shuttles. Major towns and cities have already been evacuated to safer locations though, and Atmospheric Control is hard at work trying to limit the spread of the ash cloud."  
  
"Very good. Now I have just one final question. How could whomever is responsible for this atrocity penetrate our defenses so?" As he spoke he waved to the Fury standing beside him. It must have been a preplanned signal, for both the human and his canine companion turned towards him. Their eyes glowed slightly more brightly and Gabriel felt a vice tighten around his neck and his feet left the ground. The vice wasn't very tight, but that was merely to let him respond intelligently instead of in a strangled gasp it would have been otherwise.  
  
"As of this time I am not sure sir, but it is still early in the investigation.!" Gabriel managed to sputter out.  
  
"You know what I think Admiral? I think that this is a far-reaching plot to take out the Terran Empire's government. And do you know what else I think, I think that Starfleet had a large part in it. They had to have someone on the inside, and whom better than the power hungry leaders in Starfleet to do it?" There was a slight grin on Jacks face now, and he again signaled the Fury.  
  
Gabrielle's throat visibly constricted with a wet crunch, then the body that had been suspended in the air four feet off of the ground fell back to the deck without a sound. Jack turned to the now terrified personnel manning the Octagon's Ops.  
  
"Effective immediately, First Fleet and all Sol System defensive installations are now under my direct personal command pending a top to bottom review of all senior staff for their involvement in this dastardly attack. Continue about your jobs until further notice." Then Jack Chambers turned to leave Ops, his entourage of Furies and Section 31 goons falling in around him. You could hear a pin drop in Ops for long after he left. 


	43. Chapter 41

- CHAPTER 41 -  
  
- Gabriel Hayes Quarters, now taken over by Jack Chambers, The Octagon -  
  
Jack looked over the lavish appointments of the ex High Admiral's quarters. Truth be known, they were almost as expensive and luxurious as his own personal quarters. What better place for the Terran Empire's future Emperor to wait out the next phase in his carefully thought out plans. This was the truly devious part of his plan to usurp total power into his grasp, for it required genuine risk to his person. Just the same, he felt that his defenses would prove adequate. Greg Betare's on the other hand would not. A truly evil smile crept up on his face. All those years pretending to be Greg's friend were about to be repaid in blood.  
  
Jack replayed his recent brief conversation with Greg. He was at his home on Mars, right where he was supposed to be. He had spouted the lies of how he was shocked and appalled at the recent attack on Terra. He went on to state unequivocally that those responsible would be held accountable. Greg had delivered his lines so well that a Section operative would have been proud of the performance. Jack was where he was supposed to be as well. All that remained was for the final stage of his carefully planned op to commence.  
  
- Power Armor Morgue, The Octagon -  
  
The squad was assembled. Section, on Jack Chamber's behalf, had gone to great lengths to recruit them from both Infantry and Marine ranks. They all bore a massive grudge against the ruling Council of the Terran Empire, and as such, were easy to influence into just where Jack Chambers wanted them. All 40 of them were running final checks on their own and their squad mate's armor. They were heavily armed, and vastly outnumbered the personal goons Jack Chambers had brought along. They would extract their revenge just like another similarly set up squad located at the Utopia Planetia military base near Greg Betare's Home on Mars. Both squads knew nothing of the others existence and neither knew that Section had set their entire operation up. But when their leaders, themselves carefully selected Section Operatives, gave the word to their fellow traitors to commence operations, they responded with barely contained zeal. What they didn't know was that Section had set up one traitor cell to fail, while the other wouldn't.  
  
"Are we ready to move out Sargent?" The Section Operative said in a much calmer voice than he felt inside. It would be faster just to either beam in to Chamber's room itself or else beam him out, but the entire Octagon was under a transporter inhibitor field except for the two transporter rooms themselves. Thus they had to go for a breech attack.  
  
"That's an affirmative Sir." There was a slight quaver fear in the hardened, veteran Sargent's voice. Not that the Section Operative could blame him, for word of the Furies presence and their actions had spread across the station like wildfire. And unlike the rest of the Fleet personnel stationed there, the Operative knew exactly what Furies could do. The thoughts made his stones want to crawl up into his throat, but he managed to keep his terror under control and the rest of the traitors to the Empire followed his example. The Sargent, like all the other members of the group, had a personal axe to grind with the Council, and now that it was down to two members, he would take his revenge and kill one of them.  
  
"Then lets move out." The Operative pulled his suits helmet down and brought the suits systems fully online. With a quite whirring, the synthetic muscles under the tough alloy carapace of the power armor came to life. What had been a tough job of moving the hefty unpowered suit became as easy as if he wasn't wearing close to 400 kg's of metal, computers, sensors and weapons. The sensuous feeling of sheer power came over the Operative as it always did when he strapped on a suit of power armor. Its sensors became a more powerful and capable set of eyes as they came online. The HUD showing a 360-degree panorama before his physical eyes came fully online, with a targeting recticle, close quarters map, armor, shield and weapon status popping into existence. While it required some training time to get a new recruit familiar with the slightly distorted 360-degree view, once one was familiar with literally having eyes (well electronic sensors at any rate) in the back of your head, going around normally was a real pain.  
  
With surprisingly little noise, the 40 man strike team flooded out of the morgue and began to advance down the corridors that lead to the High Admiral's suite.  
  
- Jack Chambers Quarters, The Octagon -  
  
They come. The deep rumbling baritone sounded inside Jack's head. He had initially found it disconcerting when a Fury spoke directly into his mind, but after long association he was now used to it. The Fury and his Hellhound stood side by side, staring through the door with both telepathic senses and sensor systems far in advance from the usual Power Armor sensor suite. The Fury pair could taste the sweet creeping fear and sparkling anticipation the oncoming threat radiated far more easily than they could see them through multiple bulkheads with their enhanced sensors. They must be operating under stealth, Frank thought. The Section Security squad outside Jack's quarters had still not picked them up, but they would in a bit. Then the fun would start.  
  
"Let them come Frank." Jack spoke aloud. Part of his brain cursed him for sending the other Fury pair back to Section's Covert Ops HQ, but this had to be a believable attack against him.  
  
Although the Fury could hear his thoughts as well as speak to his brain, Jack had made a habit of always speaking aloud to them. It was just a personal quirk, but he was adamant about it. It caused Frank's Hellhound, Victoria, to break in with light chuckling whenever he did it. While Victoria could kill with a speed and efficiency that easily matched that of her partner, she also had a larger sense of humor than the usually dour Frank. How the tow of them got along so well remained a mystery, but they were among the best and most powerful Fury units currently in service, which was why they were here.  
  
I know you have this all arranged ahead of time, and I am not saying that it won't succeed, after all it depends on our abilities. There was light laughter coming from Victoria as she spoke to Jack's mind. It was answered by a grunt from Frank, which equaled a deep belly laugh from him. But even with us here, there remains an insignificant chance that you might be tagged by a stray shot.  
  
"I know, but this has to be believable. If I wasn't in any real danger, my entire plan would most likely not work."  
  
We understand sir. We won't fail you. Franks voice resonated inside Jack's head. He also a mental poke at Victoria that she should not pester Jack with such obvious things. She merely sent a mental raspberry back at him followed by warm laughter. Then she refocused her attention back at the approaching threat.  
  
- Strike Team Alpha, Enroute To Jack Chamber's Quarters -  
  
The strike team's suits ECM was online in stealth mode, masking their life signs and dampening their suits power signatures. While not as total as a full cloak, it did have the advantage of not sticking out like a sore thumb to both the Octagon's internal sensors and the anti cloak sensors Jack Chamber's guards inevitably had. All they needed was enough time to sneak up and take out the guards. It was proving surprisingly easy, made so in no small part due to the collaborator now on duty in Ops. She was masking the teams progress from the sensors, preventing loyal officers and non coms from stopping them short of their objective.  
  
The team moved nearly silently and invisibly down the deserted hallway. Even using just their passive sensors, they were picking up the bright sensor sources of Chamber's guards armor, giving them a excellent picture of their dispositions. They were stationed at intersections surrounding his quarters with a large clump of them positioned near the room's door as a mobile reserve and final line of defense. The two small pickets stationed to the left and right of the door would be dealt with by his detached squads much like the one along his line of attack would be. A small countdown timer on his HUD reached zero, signifying that the attack was to commence.  
  
The Section Operative reached out and tapped the crouching armored figure in front of him on the shoulder. With out a word, his suit sensors and systems came fully online, and a split second later, the under slung photon grenade launcher coughed softly. The grenade bounced off of the wall at the T intersection up ahead to ricochet down the hall towards Chamber's guards.  
  
- Section Guard Team, Point Guard Post One -  
  
"Did you see the look on that Admiral's face when that Fury picked him up off the ground?!" the first guard said over his secure com to his fellow stationed with him at the Point Guard Post.  
  
"His eyes! You should have seen mine!! I nearly crapped in my suit right then and there. Despite all of the story's going around about them Furies, seeing just what they can do is positively one of the most scary moments in my life!"  
  
"I hear that! I mean, damn, I always knew they were powerful, but if they can do things like that, no wonder Mr. Chambers brought them along. No one would dare mess with him with them along. Hell, I'm on their side and I'm terrified of them! Just imagine what any of his possible enemies are thinking right now!"  
  
"Oh ya, I can picture them cowering in their bunks shaking in terror for their liv." The guard broke off as his sensor systems beeped for his attention, highlighting a faint sensor contact. He turned to focus his sensors on it, noticing that his buddy did so as well. "What the heck." Then his sensor went mad as the now unmistakable signatures of Power Armor blossomed on his HUD. He had just begun to activate his external com to order the still hidden figures in armor identify themselves when the photon grenade bounced off of the wall opposite of the T intersection farther down the hall from the + intersection he and his fellow guard were watching over. His scream died half formed as matter met antimatter and his power armor disappeared in the resulting boil of light. Virtually at the same instant the other two Point Guard Posts were wiped out by two other photon grenades. It was only thanks to the armor's visual protection that the sudden sun bright flash of light didn't blind the strike teams. Photon grenades held only slightly more AM than a grav gun HE bullet, and it was a good thing to else the entire building go up. Just the same, that small amount still buckled reinforced bulkheads and blast doors around the detonation area. The compression wave from the explosion resulted in further alerting the rest of the guards, but they were already springing into action thanks to their sensors wailing in their ears. Leaning into the rushing wave of air, they moved slightly down the corridor, bringing their weapons to bear on the now evident threat.  
  
- Strike Team Alpha -  
  
The Operative's auditory sensors transmitted signals to the suits stereo speaker system, replicating the banshee like scream of a PPHC as it opened up mated with the horrendous screech of tearing bulkheads. The darkened hall light up like daylight under the continuous stream of phaser pulses. Fortunately it was targeted on one of the other squads attacking to the left, and on his HUD he saw their beacons wink out. At the same time, the other PPHC opened up down the other hall and beacons from the third element of the strike team began to wink out. The strike team was down 30 men, but they had taken out four of the seven guards. That left only three and a Fury for his 10 remaining men to worry about. Activating his suits X-ray sensors, the Operative saw the PPHC firing guards clearly through the bulkhead blocking visual viewing. That was the great thing about this type of attack, your enemy had so little time to react that he was bound to forget little things. In this case it was his ECM. Five more coughs send five photon grenades down the hallway. They exploded as one and the PPHC fire died with them. Unfortunately they also depleted the total store of photon grenades the strike team had been able to requisition.  
  
All ammo was stored securely and required an Identity scan to get at. This had not been able to be circumvented, so there were only so much weaponry the team could access without setting of an extreme amount of alarms both locally and throughout Terra. Getting up out of their crouch, the team charged around the corner towards the lone remaining guard. He was still picking himself up from the nearby compression wave. A flurry of grav gun AP rounds punched through his nearly dead shields to perforate his armor, turning it and the human it encased to a crude resemblance of Swiss cheese. The hallway was little better, its walls scorched and buckled with patches of white hot alloy emitting shimmering waves of heat showing through melted carpet. By now alarms were going crazy throughout the Octagon, but the operative and his team ignored them as they charged the last few meters to their target. The leading troops opened up on the door with their grav guns. The AP bullets left only faint smears of melted alloy when the hit and ricocheted off.  
  
"Cease fire!" the Operative barked. Pulling out a breaching charge from his suits storage compartment, he smacked it on the door and activated it. 


	44. Chapter 42

- CHAPTER 42 -  
  
- Jack Chambers' Quarters -  
  
Hank and Victoria concentrated. There was a loud groan mingled with pops of tortured alloy as the door first bulged outward, then flew out of its normal seat to ricochet halfway down the hall. It clipped the nearby squad members, causing them to stagger slightly and their shields to sparkle as they shunted aside the careening door. Less than a second after the door finally settled to a stop, it disintegrated in an eye tearing white explosion as the AM shaped breaching charge detonated.  
  
Hank and Victoria activated their combat subroutines, causing adrenaline and other useful compounds to course through their systems. One such compound had the benefit of speeding neural impulses, allowing the user to react and move considerably faster than normal. The pair charged out of the room and into the maelstrom left in the AM explosion's wake. This is what the Furies lived for, attacking those who would bring harm to the Terran Empire. Their fate's had already been decided, all that was left was their execution, and the Fury pair dropped into their midst like a hurricane of death. With unnatural speed and precision, the mechanical jaws on Victoria's power armor's helmet responded to the Hellhound's biological jaw's movement, opening wide to reveal rows of exquisitely sharp serrated alloy teeth. These crunched down on the nearest power armored leg, cutting it in half even in spite of the still operative shielding. Then Victoria leaped into the air towards the next victim, moving so fast that she was a black blur. Foot long claws of mono molecule sharp blades extended cat like from her armored feet mid leap. The drug allowed her to direct her strike precisely where she wanted, for from her perspective, she was falling slowly towards her target. The blades sank into the chest of her target, sinking in to the hilt as her weight and spring bore the man to the ground.  
  
Hank was also in action, his scaled down PPHC spitting bolts of amber fire into the nearby targets. While under the drug's effects, the bolts seemed to move in slow motion, yet from his perspective he still moved at normal speed. To the remains of the strike team, he was a blur of death, meaning it out with inhuman speed. In seconds, Victoria and Frank had taken out four of the 10 remaining guards. His sensors showed the remaining six bringing up their weapons with exquisite slowness. He twitched his weapon towards the next target, sending a stream of pulses that tore his body apart. All that was left was the still surprisingly upright smoking lower legs of his armor suit. His sensors showed Victoria severing another's left arm mid leap as she arched towards her next target. Blood jetted in a slow motion crimson rainfall, and Victoria had pounced on her next target even before it hit the ground. One of the enemies behind him had finally pulled his weapon up high enough to target Victoria. With a mental shove, the man lifted up off of the ground to fly three meters down the hall. His weapon opened up at full auto in the same instant as the PK shove, throwing off his aim, causing his bullets to spang off of the floor and bulkheads as he flew.  
  
There were only three of them left, from their thoughts, one was the Operative Section had inserted to start this entire operation moving. That was good, for he had proven most useful and could be used for future ops. Even as Hank and Victoria turned to the two remaining traitors, another mental shove sent the operative flying down the corridor, unconscious from brief but vicious the assault on his mind. By mutual consent, both Hank and Victoria decided that these last to posed no real threat. This was good, they could take their time. Like cat's playing with trapped mice, the pair charged towards the two terrified attackers. The taste of their fear and shock were like a drug to the Furies, and they reveled in them, using their abilities to stoke them still higher. Although the hallway was by now totally dark, the power armor suit's sensors could turn even that to full day. Yet no matter what setting the two troopers activated, all they saw when they looked at the Furies were vaguely human and canine shapes of the blackest black. The only thing that showed up other than that was their glowing, flaming crimson eye's.  
  
Victoria decided to kill her plaything slowly using her blades, not resorting to a PK or TP attack. She always found it more satisfying to kill this way. Streaking around her armored target, she lashed out again and again with her blades, cutting first his ankles, then his wrists, then moving in along his extremities. He became little more than a torso even as he was still falling. As soon as he hit the ground, dual sets of claws punched through the front of his armor, piercing his ragged shielding to puncture deep into his chest. Lungs and heart were cut to ribbons. A snap was heard to Victoria's left and she turned to watch the now broken necked body fall to the deck. Deep satisfaction radiated from both of them, but as always upon the completion of a mission, it was tinged with regret that the mission had to end. If they could, they would have continued indefinitely, relishing in the pure unadulterated joy of the hunt, basking in the wonderful terror of their prey as they closed in on it.  
  
The grip of both their pleasure in the terror they caused and their internal apothecary lessened. That brought them down off of the natural endorphin induced high as well as lowering their adrenaline levels back to normal and first slowing, then stopping the unnatural mind and body responsiveness the other drugs caused. The entire Fury attack had lasted only 20 seconds from start to finish from the perspective of one not under the influence of bullet time. As one they turned back to the doorless room. Safely behind a security forcefield, Jack Chambers sat with a smirk on his face.  
  
"It is over I assume?"  
  
Yes Sir. They proved an interesting diversion from the normal guard duties, but still not as wondrous as a full on hunt. Victoria's mental voice spoke to Jack's mind.  
  
"Excellent! And as to an actual hunt, I believe that there will be many of those shortly. The military must be weeded out, for as this little display proves, some high level officers must very well be coconspirators with those who plotted the recent attack on Terra."  
  
Ah, now I see just what you planned Sir. Frank said, for it was bad manners to read the hidden thoughts of superior Section operatives so he had chosen not to do so to Chambers. You want elements of the military to take the fall for the attack, thus causing them to become to weak to oppose you and driving the general populace behind whatever you demand to end this crisis. And they have no way of discerning that you have helped orchestrate the entire thing. Most ingenious of you Sir, I must say. Almost as ingenious as a Fury even.  
  
"Glad you approve Frank. Now if I am not mistaken, that is the security rapid response team coming now." Jack said as he heard the clank of power armor against mangled bulkheads and the scorched and melted floor.  
  
20 heavily armed individuals to be exact. Victoria supplied. The Furies sensors and senses had seen them coming from nearly as far as they had picked up the strike team.  
  
"Well lets just go out and meet them then." The forcefield that had walled off Jack Chambers from the destruction occurring in the hall dropped out of existence with a fizzing hum as he deactivated the small shield emitter mounted to a bracelet on his wrist. Walking out into the hall, Jack had to be careful where he stepped as there were some places on the floor that were still hot enough to rapidly melt his shoes if he stepped there. The residual radiation present in the hall would require a hefty dose of antirad vaccine, but it wasn't anything to serious.  
  
"It's about time you showed up!" Jack shouted at the approaching team. "I was nearly killed by what were apparently military personnel!" Jack pointed behind him down the mangled stretch of hallway to the remains of standard TE issue Power Armor. "Get that mess cleaned up now!!" Jack ordered, then began to dance around the still red hot melted puddles of alloy flooring as he strode towards Ops. The Fury pair followed in his wake, the team giving them an even wider breadth than they had given Council Member Chambers. They could clearly see the carnage in their wake, yet they had not a scratch on them. If that wasn't enough to scare even hardened ground combat veterans, they were in desperate need of a psych evaluation.  
  
Upon entering ops, the excited, rapid fire chatter over just what could be attacking the Octagon died around Jack, leaving only the background hum and beep of machinery in the large control room. One of the terminals beeped for its operators attention, and he hurriedly turned to it, thankful for a reason to turn his back on Jack Chambers and the Furies behind him.  
  
"Sir!" the operator turned back to Jack. "there is a priority message coming through from Mars for you."  
  
"Put it up on the viewer." Jack snapped. The junior officer hurried to comply. The holo projection above Ops shifted to show the military commander of the Utopia Planetia Garrison.  
  
"Sir, I must inform you that Council Member Greg Betare has been killed by a group of terrorists at his home. By the time my troops got there, they had overpowered his personal guard and killed him. We killed off 10 of them and captured nine. Needless to say I commed you as soon as possible, as I was concerned that your security might also be in jeopardy as well. I was relieved that you were at the Octagon and therefor safe."  
  
"While I am at the Octagon, I am not safe." Jack said with great bitterness, not showing any hint that he was leaping for joy inside. His plan had gone off exactly as it was supposed to. "I myself have also just come under attack. Fortunately my guard detail was able to fend them off." The officer on the holo went a nasty shade of gray at that.  
  
"I am glad to hear that you survived sir!"  
  
"Your concern is noted Brigadier. Now, I want all of the captured terrorist and the bodies of the dead ones sent to Section 31's HQ at Moscow."  
  
"Of course sir. I shall transport them via shuttle immediately."  
  
"See that you do. I am holding you personally responsible for their safe delivery there. Analysis and interrogation should prove enlightening, for it is my belief that these attacks and the earlier attack on the Terran Council and Starfleet are related." The Brigadier and many of the duty personnel at Ops gasped.  
  
"I. see Sir! Rest assured that nothing will happen to the terrorists while they are under my care."  
  
"Very good. Chambers out." The signal died replacing the Brigadier with usual master status display of Sol system. "Give me a system wide com channel." Jack said to the com officer. "ALL military and civilian pickups." He emphasized.  
  
"Understood sir. Full system wide address activated." Every operational com system throughout Sol system went active with the outgoing broadcast.  
  
"Fellow citizens of the Terran Empire. Today, we have been attacked by an enemy striking from the shadows. This enemy's true identity is still unknown, but it has become more evident that there must have been high level conspirators within the Terran Empire itself. I am speaking specifically about the military. It was they that allowed the enemy to strike San Francisco and the orbital defenses of Terra. And it was they that attacked both myself and Council Member Betare. Fortunately I survived their attack, but I regret to inform you that Council Member Betare did not." Jack put on his most remorseful expression, playing his part to the best of his ability. It is because of this that I am authorizing Section 31 to take into custody all senior officers in Sol system pending their clearing a security check. We already have evidence that some of them are involved in illegal activities, and there is strong suspicion that some are involved in the recent attacks. As the sole surviving diplomatic body of the Terran Empire, it is my sad duty to report these horrid dealings to you, yet I will shoulder their burden gratefully until this situation is resolved. Thank you for your time, Chambers out."  
  
That ought to stir up enough sympathy with him to allow him to get his position secure. Even now, Section operatives on the ships of First Fleet and the installations of Sol Defense Command were moving to take all those above commander and above into custody. With the resulting chaos in the military and the general public terrified that the military was responsible for attacking Terra herself, they would have no choice but to turn towards him for guidance and reassurance. And with the current crop of officers out of the way, the path would be opened to those who would be loyal to Jack Chambers as Emperor Chambers. A tiny shiver of joy went through Jack. He had really pulled it off. All of those years of political maneuvering and hidden agreements had finally given him the power he had always lusted after. Now all that remained to make his life complete would be for his daughter to be returned to him from the Barbs clutches. That would require a call to Mr. O'tole, but it was a relatively simple thing. And now that Jack had supreme control of the TE, the Cartel head would have no choice but to comply with his demands. With a slightly jaunty step and the barest hint of a smile on his lips, Jack Chambers strode up to the raised central chair and settled into its comfortable grasp. 


	45. Chapter 43

- CHAPTER 43 -  
  
- Flag Officer's Quarters, Starbase 10, Sector Command, Qo'noS System -  
  
The faint fire pricked blackness filtering through the rooms windows showed a nearly empty bottle of Champaign and two tall glasses on the table along with the remains of a meal. Discarded articles of clothing, one set an Admiral's uniform, the other that of a Flag Staff Lieutenant, trailed towards the adjoining room. Girlish giggles and throaty male laughter echoed throughout the darkened suite, joined here and there by a soft gasp of pleasure, emanated from the bedroom.  
  
The computer beeped in the nearly pitch black quarters, demanding the Admiral's attention. But that would mean dividing his attention from his companion. He had no intention of doing that, so he ignored it and instead kept his attention on the squirming, giggling body beneath his own. The terminal beeped again after a few seconds, this time louder and in a more grating tone. Gritting his teeth in anger Admiral Irving Johnston continued to explore every curve of his recently acquired junior staff officer. Whomever it was that was bothering him would get some time in the Agonizer once he was through here. He had left specific instructions that he wasn't to be disturbed and heaven help those who disobeyed his orders.  
  
- Ops, Starbase 10 -  
  
"Still no response from the Admiral sir." The terrified looking com officer told Commodore Alex Mushashi. He had every right to be scared, for while the Commodore could bring him pain immediately, the Admiral could do so later, and for a considerably longer time period. He was caught between a rock and a hard place and he knew it. The fear of immediate pain spurred him into action, and he clung to the faint hope that the Admiral's wrath would fall on the Commodore instead of the messenger.  
  
"Try again, this time open full voice connection." Alex snapped, her brown almond eyes boring into the hesitant com officer. Weather the Admiral liked it or not he needed to be informed of what was happening immediately.  
  
"The Imperial vessels are deeper into the Qo'noS system at maximum sustainable warp. Our sensors and the Corridor Terminus Picket Fleet say that they are indeed severely damaged, just like they claimed in their mayday Sir." The watch tactical officer said from Alex's right. "CIC says that they are two Sovereigns, the Reliant and the Mars, two Galaxies, the Vengeance and the Goddard, four Akira's, the Iroquois, the Basilisk, the Pike and the Cochrane, and seven Defiants, all with varying degrees of battle damage. According to their Ident, they are part of the local Sector Rapid Response Fleet. They say they were out on maneuvers when some heavily armed Klingon vessels ambushed them. After getting over their initial surprise, they proceeded to destroy the Klingons, but not after taking the damage. Seeing as how we were the closest repair facility, they plotted a course and entered the Subspace Corridors."  
  
"Damn Klingon barbarians, don't they know when they're licked?" Alex muttered softly to herself. "Have you gotten that line through yet?!" She said to the com officer.  
  
"Yes Ma'am, channel open."  
  
"Admiral Irving Johnston, I am sorry to disturb you but we have some unexpected."  
  
"Shut the F*** up and deal with it yourself you sorry excuse for an Imperial officer!" the venom filled voice of the Qo'noS Sector fleet commander cut her off. "When I leave orders I expect them to be followed to the letter. I'm occupied right now, but I'll deal with this little interruption by you afterward, of that you can be certain." The connection died.  
  
"Always thinking with his dick instead of with his brain." Alex muttered with a sour expression. Well fine, if he wanted her to deal with it, then that was all there was to it. It wasn't like she had never spent time in an Agonizer before, and it likely wouldn't be the last. "Open a channel to the lead Imperial vessel."  
  
- Grand Alliance Klingon Attack Fleet, just beyond sensor range of Qo'noS system  
  
The massive fleet made up mostly of Klingon vessels hovered in cloak, waiting for the time to strike. It should be happening right about now.  
  
- Captured Imperial Star Ship Reliant -  
  
Their ruse was working perfectly. Within a few minutes the next wave would begin, and then the Klingon Empire would be reborn.  
  
"Imperial Vessel Reliant, this is Qo'noS system command."  
  
"We read you loud and clear command." The computer generated Terran Officer replied.  
  
"You are to proceed to coordinates 3309 mark 68 and hold position. An engineering team will be dispatched to assess your damage. Command out."  
  
The Klingon officer smiled a toothy smile. It was working, the false life signs that were being generated across the captured ships were fooling the Imperials into thinking that this ship was one of their own. It was fortunate that the Qo'noS system's defenses, while formidable, were no where near as extensive as those of say Terra or Vulcan. Here there were no vast swarms of mines and OWPs, no Stations seeded so thick you could nearly walk from one to the next across the system, and no warp inhibitors to slow traffic to a crawl.  
  
- Ops, Starbase 10 -  
  
The six Imperial vessels cruised deeper into the system, the few automated sentries and battle stations letting them pass without a hitch. Yet that did nothing to calm Alex. She was uneasy and her stomach was in knots. There was no reason for it, yet she couldn't ease it at all.  
  
"Scan them again. Something isn't quite right here. I can't put my finger on it, but its there."  
  
"Scanning them again, aye Ma'am."  
  
"Anything anomalous?"  
  
"Other than a slight irregularity in their warp signature, no Ma'am."  
  
"Slight irregularity!" She pounced like a cat on a mouse.  
  
"Easily explained by their battle damage Commodore. It could have easily knocked their warp drive field out of alignment, causing minor irregularities the sensor's are picking up."  
  
"Hmmm." Alex replied with a frown. Was she only jumping at shadows? Perhaps the thoughts of the Admiral's retaliation was affecting her more than she would admit to, even to herself?  
  
- Captured Imperial Star Ship Reliant -  
  
"They are scanning us again Captain." The Klingon Tactical officer said.  
  
"Any change in the status of their weapons and shields?"  
  
"No sir. It would appear that the modifications to our warp signature and the false life signs are working exactly as they are supposed to."  
  
"Continue on course then."  
  
The seconds ticked by, seemingly taking an eternity for each one to pass.  
  
"Coming up on deployment time frame."  
  
"Prepare for deployment on my mark." The small flotilla of captured Imperial warships cruised to within striking range of the main fixed and mobile defenses of the Qo'noS system. 10th Fleet was arrayed in squadrons around the Klingon homeworld, with rings of shipyards, starbases, orbital weapons platforms and battle stations seeded thick amongst them. All told there were over 300 OWPs, 20 Battle Stations, 35 smaller Starbases and 5 mammoth shipyards in Qo'noS orbit. They were backed by 6 Wraiths, 50 Sovereigns, 75 Galaxies, 200 Prometheuses, 50 Nebulas of various classes, 80 Akiras, over 2000 mixed Defiants, Sabers, Norways and Intrepids and close to 3000 fighters based either ground side or on orbiting battle stations. Only half of this mighty fleet was near Qo'noS at any one time. The rest were cruising the outer system or patrolling nearby systems. The mobile forces were a nearly up to strength Nodal Sector Defense Fleet, and they were currently going about their daily routine with out a care in the world. The captured warships spread out their formation as they came out of warp, putting greater and greater distance between them selves.  
  
- Ops, Starbase 10 -  
  
"Well that's peculiar." The tactical officer said, more perplexed than concerned.  
  
"What is?!" Alex demanded, striding towards the tactical console.  
  
"For some reason, the damaged ships are increasing the spacing between themselves. It almost looks like they are moving to combat separation."  
  
"WHAT!?"  
  
- Captured Imperial Star Ship Reliant -  
  
". Two, one, Mark!" The Klingon Captain said with great relish and a clench of his fist.  
  
On the exterior of the captured warships, concealed paneling blew away as its explosive charges activated. They revealed the hidden weapons systems beneath, and they began to spit out a seemingly endless stream of energy torpedoes. The defenses of Qo'noS, both mobile and fixed, were caught completely flatfooted. They had no reason to suspect that their own vessels would attack them, or that they had been modified to carry such a devastating payload.  
  
Silvery pulsating energy bursts vomited forth from their formerly hidden launchers. Every one launched was fired at a separate target. Many only had their navigational shields in operation, yet even their fully deployed armor and fully energized shields would have proven no obstacle to the weapons effects. When they struck, the lighting of the target flickered and died as main power disappeared. Engines, shields, weapons, life support, even the targets internal gravity was thrown offline. In a mere handful of seconds, close to 1/3 of Qo'noS's defenses were inoperative and adrift, moving merely on their own inertia or the attraction of a nearby planet or moon.  
  
Within seconds, Qo'noS's planetary shield ramped up to full power as all of the deorbit corridors were slammed shut, shrouding the entire planet in a solid wall of energy. The generators were rated at holding back close to 72 hours of continuous bombardment from an entire Borg Fleet, so the Terran rulers of Qo'noS felt justifiably secure. With only the vessels currently attacking them, they wouldn't even scratch the shield grid before the surviving warships blew them apart from long range with proximity-fused torpedoes and phaser lance fire.  
  
Then the other punch of the combination struck. Perimeter sensors had a brief glimpse of a massive incoming warp signature before they were well and thoroughly jammed. Then the sensors themselves were struck by Breen energy dampening torpedoes, and they shut down exactly like the ships and stations in the inner system.  
  
- Ops, Starbase 10 -  
  
The wail of the Red Alert klaxon was screaming in the background chirps and beeps of Ops, but the Human and even Vulcan controllers were shocked into nonfiction. By some miracle of fate, Sector Command Starbase 10 had been on the far side of Qo'noS when the captured Starfleet vessels had begun their attack. They therefore had full access to what was happening, and it was horrifying. In a mere handful of seconds, over a third of the fixed and mobile forces in the system were now highlighted in the amber cored crimson of inoperative units. And it wasn't even the inoperative units reporting in themselves, ALL readings and com systems on them were totally gone. Even their independently powered redundant IFF was inoperative. The only reason it was even known that they were still there at all was that sensors outside of the initial attack were still picking up their hulls.  
  
It was beyond belief. It couldn't be happening. Yet even as the duty crew stared in petrified silence, more allied units along the periphery of the blight began to join their inoperative companions. Alex finally jerked her panicked mind into action.  
  
"Orders to all operative Fleet units, engage hostile forces at maximum range. Keep your formations and watch out for their weapons. They appear to completely disable a vessel in one shot, so stay sharp." As she spoke, the planetary shield grid on Qo'noS snapped to full combat power. Good, she thought, at least someone down there is on the ball. She also saw the ready fighter squadrons light off and start screaming for space, both from the surviving stations and their ground bases. Good, good, this entire escapade would be shortly dealt with, and she would get full credit for the win. After all, she thought with savage delight, that dirty sex hound made it my baby, so he can't do a damn thing.  
  
Then she felt like she had been punched in the gut. The holo display shifted to display new priority data transmitted from the perimeter sensor net. No! There was NO WAY IN HELL that that transmission was correct! In the brief instant that the sensors had before they were totally jammed, they showed one of the largest fleets Alex had ever seen, but it wasn't a friendly one. It was assuredly a Klingon one, for no one could mistake the lines of a B'rel or K'Tinga class and the rest of the vessels were largely of the same styling. The data stream shifted to enhanced visuals, and Alex got a glimpse of the enemy formation. Lying at its heart was a monstrous ship, easily near Bastion class in size. "Dear God!" She whispered.  
  
"Open a subspace com to Starfleet Command immediately!" She shouted, her voice showing her terror clearly. Even if the entire defense fleet and stations were operational, they would be hard pressed to stand up to what was headed their way.  
  
"We can't sir!" came an equally terrified shout from her com officer. "They are jamming all long range subspace and hyper com channels!"  
  
"Keep trying damn it! Are short-ranged com channels still working?"  
  
"Barely ma'am! Our tactical nets are shot all to hell, but there are still some channels that are relatively free from interference."  
  
"Open a channel to the Fleet"  
  
"Channel open sir."  
  
"This is Sector Command to all operational Fleet units. Form up and engage in one firing pass on the enemy before retreating back to Qo'noS orbital defensive perimeter. We need to know what we are up against!" If the enemy fleet had only conventional weaponry, the coming battle would be very bad. If they had the same weapons as the modified Imperial vessels that were now cooling clouds of wreckage, then the Second Battle of Qo'noS outcome would be quite different than the first's.  
  
- Captured Imperial Warships, Qo'noS orbit -  
  
The duce of Sovies and Galaxies were lunging outward, eager to bring more targets into range of their toys. They had the Akiras and Defiants that had accompanied them close at their heels. Then a tidal wave of quantums crashed down about them. The launching vessels were still well outside normal weapons ranges, and well beyond visual range. But proximity fused quantums, while not as accurate as when operating in their optimal range, were still deadly if used in numbers. And used in numbers they were. The recently launched fighters joined in with the surviving stations and starships to fire close to 5000 torps in their opening volley. They were like a blue/white wave of pure light as they closed in from all directions on the former Imperial warships. The Terran Empire built their vessels tough, but not even they could withstand that much energy released against their fully energized and reinforced shields and deployed ablative armor.  
  
The wave of torps seemed to coalesce around the enemy vessels, wreathing the enemy's dispersed units in death. Nearly as one, the quantums detonated, the glare they produced causing computers to automatically blank out the brightness on view screens system wide. All that was left in the detonations wake was expanding clouds of plasma that had once been multimillion ton and multibillion credit ships of war. The surviving warships formed up, then engaged warp. So far, only 1st Fleet at Sol, 2nd Fleet, 3rd Fleet at Vulcan and certain couriers and exploratory craft had been refitted with slipstream drive. It was fortunate that the enemy fleet appeared not to have it either, but it still only meant a level playing field in terms of speed. The Terran Empire seldom liked to play that way, but they didn't have any choice in the matter. But that wasn't the truly bad part. What was, was that the oncoming fleet was five times as large as the Imperial one rushing out to meet it. 


	46. Chapter 44

- CHAPTER 44 -  
  
- IKV Bortas, Klingon Liberation Fleet, Qo'noS System -  
  
Luza grinned fiercely as the Imperial fleet approached. While only a fraction of the Klingon Fleet had the new Breen Energy Dampening Weapon, they should be sufficient to take out what was approaching them. The Trojan horses that had been sent in ahead of the main fleet had performed better than expected, taking out more vessels and installations than they had planned for. It only served to make the Fleet's job easier, but then use of the massive firepower of the Fleet had never truly been planned on being used. The captured Imperial installations and vessels would only add to the backbone of Qo'noS's new Klingon defenses.  
  
"Targets coming in from the flagship. Our Vampire wing is ordered to target this Galaxy wing." Five of the dangerous opponents were highlighted on the small screen to the right of Luza's command chair.  
  
"Very well, order the squadron to form up for an attack run on them." She said.  
  
"Squadron confirms orders and awaits your order to launch."  
  
"Target their lead vessels and fire."  
  
The squadron of Vampires opened up with their Maulers. The Galaxy wing had been more occupied with the bigger Negh'Vars and Vor'chas than the Vampires, relying on their escorts to provide cover against the smaller vessels. Silver swords lanced out of the Mauler emitters mounted in the prow of each Vampire, hitting squarely on their targets. The Galaxies powerful shields flashed, then failed. Ablative armor generators were stripped away, and the hull turned to molten pools under the assault, yet the Galaxy was a tough customer. Her extensive internal volume was devoted to backup power supplies and targeting sensors. Armored internal bulkheads smashed down, channeling the destruction and limiting its total damage. Here and there, a Galaxy had a hole blown through its whole saucer. Two weren't so lucky, or else the Vampire's gunnery officers were particularly sharp on the long BVR shot. Whatever the cause, the Mauler's targeting them hit their secondary hull instead of the large target of the saucer section. Despite the shields and armors best efforts, the beams punched through and penetrated their AM storage tanks. Though the blow wasn't fatal, it did force the dual warp cores offline due to lack of fuel, meaning that the two Galaxies were now operating on backup fusion reactors. Though they could still fight, it was at a greatly reduced rate.  
  
The attack drew the ire of the Galaxies escorts down upon Luza's squadron in spades. Like a swarm of wasps, they charged to the defense of their charges. The Defiants and Sabers crashed down on the Vampires, expecting to have a fairly easy time as long as they used their superior maneuverability to stay out of the Mauler's arc. Flying in wing pairs, these ships had been the bane of Luza's old B'rel's existence, for they possessed the edge in both firepower (greatly outgunning the ancient vessel) and speed and maneuverability (here the edge was smaller, but still noticeable). This was no longer the case, as the Imperial's learned the hard way. Whipping their ships around in maneuvers every bit as tight as those the Imperial warships pulled, the Vampires lined up on them with their rapid-fire disruptor banks. Pulsed green death spat from the five fore emitters, hammering away at the Imperial shields and armor. Though the Mauler needed time to recharge, there was more than enough power to keep the disrupter's capacitor charged and engage in hard maneuvering. The Bortas lurched slightly as a Defiant, true to its name, launched back in turn with a string of PPC bolts and a pair of quantums from her foreword weapons.  
  
"Fore shields down 2%." Her tactical officer said.  
  
"Target the offending vessel and teach it the error of its ways."  
  
"Aye sir." A throaty Klingon chuckle went around the bridge.  
  
The Defiant had spun end for end and began to pull away to open the range so it could turn around and reattack. As it did so, its wingmate was cut in half by a sustained burst from a fellow Vampire. The Bortas didn't give its quarry a chance to reattack. His sharp helmsman slammed the fleet footed cruiser into a rapid turn to port and laid in a pursuit course even as the Imperial began his own turn. The enemies rear quantum tube seeded its deadly spoor into space, but the Klingon vessel managed to dodge most of them using its high maneuverability and ECM. The few that did manage to strike were mere irritants, and then the Defiant settled into the Vampire's cross hairs. Quantums and disruptor bolts were freed from their weapons, slashing deeply into the rear hull of the Defiant. After repeated hits, the entire aft end of the vessel sheared off while the rest of it went into a ballistic course, dead in space. Luza looked back down at her master plot. Her squadron had cut a swath through the Defiants and Sabers sent out to kill them, but there were two with light damage. Their captains fevereantly swore that they were still combat capable, and judging from her own cursory visual inspection, they were just that. Not that she would have had the heart to tell them to withdraw from the greatest battle in Klingon history even if their damage had been more extensive. Turning her attention back to the wings primary targets, she was just in time to see a wing of asymmetrical claw like vessels stream in range and volley their weapons. The phasers and quantums that had been spewing continuously from the wounded Galaxies died mid stream as the Breen weapons leached their power away.  
  
The Bortas' com speakers came to life with an odd melding of growls and beeps. Though Luza didn't understand the Breen language and the universal translator had a tough time deciphering it, she couldn't help but think that they were laughing at her for letting them steal her kills. Normally such an affront on her honor would have caused her wrath to be unleashed, but there were enough kills to go around so she chose to let the slight pass just this once.  
  
- Ops, Starbase 10 -  
  
The two fleets came together in warp, but soon dropped to impulse as their warp inhibitors area of effect came into range of each other fleet. The battles were mostly short, as the Imperial heavies engaged at long range and only fired a few times before turning and engaging full impulse to clear the inhibitor's field. Even so, the disabled units were all out of proportion to such an engagement. Another 10 Galaxies, 27 Sovereigns, 55 Prometheuses, 42 Akiras and 34 Nebulas went inoperative, to say nothing of the losses in light units. The Imperial fleet broke off and went to warp, with the Klingon Fleet close behind. They would be in orbit in less than a minute, and there was nothing here that could stop them. They could damage them slightly, to be sure, but with the overwhelming on shot kill advantage of their mysterious weapon, the entire planetary defense net would be offline seconds after that monstrous fleet dropped out of warp. There was really only one option available to her, but Commodore Alex Mushashi was loath to take it. Precious seconds ticked by, steady as the metronome of the red alert beacons. This was all happening so fast that there just wasn't time to analyze things. No time to think about the ongoing chaos that mired Sector 1 Command. No time to question how the Klingons could assemble such a massive fleet in total secrecy. No time to devise any last minute salvation, merely to act as standing orders dictated.  
  
"Orders to the Fleet, they are to set course for Starbase 138, transmitting a full account of what happened here as soon as they are free of the jamming."  
  
"But sir, that means that we won't have any starship cover when the enemy fleet arrives. With the tonnage advantage they have." the com officer began, the first inklings that he was doomed seeping into his brain.  
  
"Just send the message damn you! Don't you think I know that!!" She cursed him, her rage against her own helplessness causing her to lash out at the first convenient target. "Can't you see that by holding the remaining Fleet units here, we damn them to the same fate that awaits us?!"  
  
The com officer and most of the Ops duty officers had been vainly clinging to the hope that their position could yet be saved. The truth dawned on them, and they seemed to wilt like deflating balloons. Yet even as that erupted on their consciousness, they stayed at their post, never panicking. They were Terrans, and they still had their duties to perform, even to the last that wouldn't change.  
  
"Message sent sir." The subdued com officer replied.  
  
"No give me the Defense Perimeter channel." When the com officer signaled his readiness, she continued. "All Stations of the Qo'noS Defense Perimeter, this is Commodore Mushashi, acting CO of Sector 10 Command." She hesitated for a brief moment as part of her raged against what she must do, yet it passed and she continued. "All units are hereby ordered to implement General Order 4 immediately. I repeat, all units are to implement General Order 4 immediately. Long live the Empire. Mushashi out." A hush fell across Starbase 10's Ops at her words. They all knew that General Order 4 stated that, in the face of an enemy attack on a strategically important target, with no likelihood of advantageous battle outcome or counterattack in the near future, all static defensive installations are to be scuttled to remove their use by the enemy. Her orders had gone out to every working com display on every working station in Qo'noS orbit, and upon hearing them, their crews began a mad scramble for the escape pods.  
  
She turned to her panel and began to speak. "Computer, activate General Order 4, 60 second countdown from activation. Authorization Commodore Alex Mushashi 119 Alpha 342 Epsilon 556 Destruct Enable."  
  
"Acknowledged. Primary authorization authenticated, primary locks disengaged. Secondary authorization required to continue." The computer said. Alex turned to look across Ops to the tactical officer. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, a tortured look on his face, then visibly sagged and nodded to her.  
  
"Computer, activate General Order 4. Authorization Commander Ben Percival 996 Cappa 778 Theta 204 Destruct Enable."  
  
"Acknowledged. Secondary authorization authenticated, secondary locks disengaged. Activation of General Order 4 initiated, 60 second countdown. 59.58.57." It was then that a harried looking Flag Admiral leaped through the still half opened turbolift doors. His uniform was crumpled with the golden braiding around his left shoulder out of position. Admiral Irving Johnson's white hair was disheveled, but where his wrinkled, age spotted face had initially shown a scowl when he charged onto the bridge, the dead silence other than the soft feminine voice of the computer counting down caused it to turn to something else, sheer terror.  
  
"Dear God.!! But. but there is no time for me to escape!" He wailed like a terrified child.  
  
For all of her own fear of her impending death, Alex's voice was surprisingly calm. "Neither is their time for the large portion of this stations personnel to evacuate. The enemy fleet will be on top of us in." She glanced at her tactical repeater just as the computer said 46. "38 seconds. When they get here, their will be no way to prevent them from taking over this and the other stations in Qo'noS orbit. Thus implementing General Order 4 is the only course I could take."  
  
"But. but I'll BE KILLED!"  
  
Alex snorted. "As I said, not only you but a large portion of the valiant Imperial officers and crew as well. But there is a difference between them and you. Unlike you, they will be dying in service to the Empire. You, you sniveling worm that has no business wearing a Crewman's uniform, let alone an Admiral's, will merely be dying a far, far better death than you deserve!"  
  
The holo display above their heads shifted as the Klingon fleet dropped out of warp. There were now a scant 8 seconds till the scuttling charges on Starbase 10 detonated yet the Klingon fleet also knew this. Any vessel that mounted the Breen Energy Dampening torpedoes immediately targeted a nearby station and fired.  
  
"NOOOO!!" The Admiral shouted as he lunged towards the console next to Alex with surprising speed for one over 100 years of age chronologically. Perhaps it was true that sex helped to keep one young. "Computer Abort General Ord." The Admiral never finished his statement as Alex's hand flashed up to crush his larynx. His hands flashed to his throat as he struggled to breathe through his collapsed windpipe. Commodore Alex Mushashi smiled down at the choking Admiral.  
  
"I die for the Empire!" She said with great pride. The rest of the Ops duty crew braced to attention at her words.  
  
"I DIE FOR THE EMPIRE!" They roared back. She was fiercely proud of them, for not one had cracked and tried a doomed attempt to get from the centrally situated Ops to the outer escape pods. Not that even that would have done much good, for everyone knew Klingons didn't take prisoners.  
  
Then the computer said zero and a loud roar and a brilliant white light filled Ops. The vast stores of antimatter on the giant station met matter as the containment fields let go. That in and of itself wouldn't totally wipe out the station, but combined with the entire onboard magazine capacity of torpedoes, both heavy and quantum, detonating at the same time, along with the purposely left open blast doors and disabled SIF, it proved sufficient. The titanic release of energy tore the once powerful station apart from the inside out, leaving only a shattered and broken partial shell in its place. Close to half of the surviving stations joined Starbase 10 in its suicide, but the Breen torpedoes caught the others, freezing their countdowns before they could activate the scuttling charges.  
  
- Klingon Liberation Fleet, Qo'noS Defense Perimeter -  
  
The rainbow streaks on bottomless black of warp coalesced back into the pinpricks of starlight as the Fleet dropped back out of warp near Qo'noS. The fleet's final destination was now within reach, seemingly within a hand's breadth, but there was still much to be done to secure it from the Terrans. Breen torpedoes spat from their launchers to strike out at the orbiting stations. Some hit in time, others did not, the small torpedoes getting lost in the star bright boils of massive antimatter explosions as the stations scuttling charges let go. 60 OWPs, 9 Battle Stations, 15 Starbases and 2 shipyards were all that remained of the orbital defenses of Qo'noS. Even as the detonations that signified a successful implementation of General Order 4 walked across Qo'noS's sky, the dirtside weaponry activated. Massive phaser emitters sent out amber/orange shafts of light, meeting with carefully choreographed frequency windows in the planetary shield grid. Ships not able to get out of their path in time took massive damage. One of the few Romulan D'deridex Warbirds was targeted and the beam hit, splintering its port nacelle struts to slag and throwing the crippled vessel into a uncontrolled spiral away from the point of impact. Two Negh'Vars were also hit, one along its spine boom, separating the vessel into two halves. The other was hit nearly head on, the beam piercing straight down the ship nearly dead center. Its antimatter stores let loose a split second after the beam finished its cut, blowing the now halved warship to large splinters.  
  
Breen torpedoes rained down on the planet. Though the current range was approaching the outer edge of their engagement envelope, it helped greatly that the target couldn't evade. Even so, there were so many false targets being generated by dirtside ECM that sites required a saturation bombardment to ensure deactivation. One by one, the massive phaser emplacements and shield generators were taken offline. Shields that would stop any known weapon cold were just as powerless as their smaller brethren on starships and bases against the Breen's ingenious weapon. Soon large breeches were forming in the planetary shield, and ground fire was slacking visibly. It was time to retake the Homeworld, and the assigned fleet elements moved foreword to do just that. While some units were assigned to pacify the power drained starships and stations, mostly by beaming their helpless crews to either holding cells or out into space, the true strength of the attack moved into a low orbit over the capital. Since nearly the entire planetary surface from ground level to high into the atmosphere was under the effects of transporter inhibitors that couldn't be localized for destruction, an orbital insertion was called in.  
  
Army drop ships streamed out from their cargo tenders to scream down through the planets atmosphere. They were joined by the highly stealthed, power armored infantry in a more deadly form of orbital skydiving. Where one was done for the thrill, this one was done to insert combat troops where they were needed when transporters were offline. Lighter planetary defenses were still online, and phalanx torps and PPC fire spat out to try and kill both the drop ships and the unlucky infantry that had been detected despite their ECM units. B'rel's and Shrike's swooped down in support of the assault, flaying the PPC and Phalanx sites with disruptor bolts, turning the ground to molten ruin. Yet for all of the destruction they unleashed, they were careful of where they unleashed it, for this was THEIR planet, and they wanted it as intact as possible. 


	47. Chapter 45

- CHAPTER 45 -  
  
- Qo'noS, Planetary Governor's Palace -  
  
"Get those BLOODY AAA batteries ONLINE DAMNIT!" Peter Issard screamed, his voice augmented by his power armor's external speakers. No one heard him but the Mobile Command Post's staff and its crew. The mobile Viking Phalanx AAA battery's crew were doing their best to set the lightly armored hover up in its new location, yet their best wasn't enough to satisfy the Commandant. The damn jamming was making nearly every com channel, both in subspace and old-fashioned radio, awash in white noise. That left only line of sight laser and even more old-fashioned vocal communication as about the only things left that still worked. Peter thanked God that the Academy still taught ground combat units to function without their modern communications. It was a good thing that the Klingons appeared to want prisoners from the Palace, lest they open up with their shipboard weaponry and fry the powerful yet not powerful enough theatre shield that spread out over the compound and into the forest beyond. He had seen the silver edged white orbs that slammed into the nearby planetary shield emitter installation. Though the weapon did very little damage in comparison to weaponry regularly employed in planetary assaults, it did generate a shock wave that would have thrown a light tank end over end. Hence the most likely reason why they weren't being used here was because they might kill those whom the Klingons wanted for hostages. Thank God for small miracles, at least he might live through this, even if it meant ending up in a POW camp. But anything was better than being incinerated by a starship phaser or disruptor blast. Heck even a torpedo would easily ruin his day if it landed near by. Though they weren't as powerful as current phasers or disruptors, they did have greater range and seeking capabilities the energy weapons didn't, meaning they had their place in combat. What was more, their launchers took up less space than your normal phaser emitter, so they could be shoehorned in areas where the more powerful phasers could not.  
  
Finally the Phalanx battery settled its anchors into the soft ground. A split second later, a stream of 12 micro quantum torpedoes belched from the launch tube, engaging their impulse engines almost as soon as they left the launcher. Even as the stream broke to target individual B'rel's, K'Vort's, Shrike's and Drop Ships, they launcher was retracting its stabilizers from the earth and speeding towards another position. With its chameleon cammo engaged, it was nearly invisible. The reason behind the chameleon skin was to keep enemy sensors from locking on to the launcher. Standard cloaking stuck out like a sore thumb to tachyon based scanners, but with a little ECM to hide from sensors and the chameleon cammo to hide visually except from extremely close ranges, it made the battery a considerably harder target during combat. Moving after every volley also kept the enemy from backtracking the Phalanx battery's own fire and hitting it. Peter's power armors own chameleon cammo was inactive, seeing as how he was nestled in the safety of the Palace's Conquistador Mobile Command Post's own, more powerful, cammo and ECM. The MCP's sensors were his eyes as he followed the barely visible outline of the Viking. The MCP's sensors and computers knew where to look for it, yet even they had trouble keeping the fleet, stealthy battery in sensor contact. Seconds after the battery left its firing position, a flail of green bolts turned the ground there to a microcosm of hell. The ground melted to liquid under the assault and was subsequently thrown into the air by the disruptors' minute yet still present kinetic force.  
  
But even as the multiple streams of disruptors slammed home, the fist sized blue/white orbs of Phalanx torpedoes swung towards their victims. A B'rel's shields flashed as a quartet slammed into its rear. It survived the first three, but the forth burst directly over its impulse drive. With its after end a glowing crater, the B'rel began a lazy unpowered spiral to the ground. An attacking Shrike was struck as well, it shields flaring out of existence followed closely by the frigate's own eye tearing funeral pyre. The bellow the explosion made in Qo'noS' atmosphere would be nearly deafening to unshielded ears nearby. Another explosion sounded to Peter's left, the total 3-D sound system of his armor making it sound exactly where it would have if he hadn't been wearing his suit. He caught the explosion on his 360 degree view of his HUD and spun around in time to center the view on the last few pieces of what had been a Klingon Drop Ship fall to earth.  
  
A power-armored figure, noticed only because his suit whisker commed the CP for attention, came out of the bushes that marked the edge of the cleared zone around the Palace. Peter's HUD IDed him as a member of the Palace's Scout Platoon.  
  
"Report!" Peter barked into his helmet pickup after switching to the appropriate laser com channel.  
  
"We have about a companies worth of infantry and light tanks coming in from the west and north, they're about 12 minutes out. A brigade of APCs and heavy tanks are coming down the main road to south, they're about 30 minutes out." As the scout spoke, his computer automatically fed the total gathered info to Peter's suit computer. Only reason they aren't here now is thanks to the minefields I ordered emplaced holding them back, Peter thought. The subspace mine fields weren't much danger to low flying starships or even assault shuttles operating in atmosphere, but things like infantry, APCs and tanks were in danger to their small but concentrated warheads. That required that the fields had to be cleared, and that took time. It was a good thing he had ordered them set up, as the previous base Commandant had not bothered as much as he should have with security and had paid the price when a phaser beam burned him from existence.  
  
The banshee like shriek of a PPC used in atmosphere nearly drowned out the scout's final words. What it was opening up on became visible through the clouds seconds later. Qo'noS' surviving fighters were retreating to a last ditch defense of dirtside installations.  
  
"Finally some air cover!" Peter spoke like it was a prayer of thanksgiving. He spoke to the scout, issuing the young woman new orders. "Go out and keep a close eye on the incoming infantry and light tanks. If they start making better progress, either come find me or launch a com drone if you can do it without being seen." Though UAV drones were highly useful and stealthy, they could still be seen at greater ranges than a stealthed armor suit when operating, so one had to be careful using them near the enemy.  
  
"Aye sir." Then the scout brought the power-armored gauntlet not holding his grav gun's grip to his helmet in a jaunty salute, then turned and made a fast, shallow but long, bound back into the woods.  
  
Peter turned to watch the incoming fighters. There weren't very many of them, which is only to be expected. Fighters had no choice but to die when facing the full attention of a fleet of capital ships. They might be tough, but nothing so small could mount a powerful enough shield grid to stop a starship's phaser or torpedo. Their wild corkscrews and jinks kept them one step ahead of their pursuing B'rel's and Shrikes, with both Imperial fighters and enemy frigates maneuvering nearly to fast for his eyes to follow them.. Those few launchers that weren't 100% engaged in taking out nearby Drop Ships and Assault Shuttles sent PPC bolts and Phalanx torpedoes back at the fighter's tailing enemies. The enemies either broke off or were destroyed by the amber and blue/white death reaching for them. An enemy assault shuttle managed to draw a bead on the MCP before it died, and it salvoed its disruptors. Though not as powerful as those on a starship, they were capable of taking out most heavy tanks after a few shots. But the MCP's ECM threw off the now dead shuttles aim point, and they slammed into the dirt nearby, creating an angry crimson puddle of melted earth near the MCP. The Conquistador shuddered lightly as the ground transmitted the impact of the disruptor bolts into its skids. Peter considered activating the AG drive and relocating then thought better of it. The AG field in operation was considerably harder to hide than in standby mode as it was now. It had only been luck that had allowed the assault shuttle to get a sniff of them, so he chose to leave the MCP where it was.  
  
"This is Commandant Peter Issard to the Imperial fighters over the Palace. We have some heavy tanks and APCs at coordinates 330 mark 47. Your orders are to terminate with extreme prejudice!"  
  
"Aye sir! Engaging enemy at 330 mark 47!" There was a wolf like quality in the squadron commander's voice, for he now had a target he could kill. The loitering fighters swung virtually as one and receded from view rapidly as they boosted upwards of Mach 20 towards the small popping explosions of the shrinking minefield south of the Palace. Barely two seconds later, a series of thunderclaps, mingled sonic booms and explosions, assaulted the MCP's audio pickup. The armored floor beneath Peter's feet vibrated from the distant destruction. Both above and below the horizon, boils of light flared into harsh existence as the fighters and tanks engaged each other. A hand sized, stealthed UAV drone relayed the sad statistics from the assault. All of the remaining fighters that had clustered over the Palace were now gone. At least they had severely blunted the enemy's main thrust towards the Palace. It wouldn't change much, not when they had the resources in orbit the Klingons had, but at least he was making the bastards pay for what they were taking. He looked about him, using the MCP's enhanced sensors and IFF systems to pick out his troop's foxholes. They were arrayed in a text book perfect defensive perimeter around the armor walls of the Palace. There was plenty of open, level, mined terrain in front of them, a perfect killing field the enemy had to wade through before the end inevitably came.  
  
Suddenly there was a flare and thunderclap to his left. The Phalanx battery he had been tracking as it scooted around the Palace's perimeter exploded harshly as its fusion reactor let go. It had just let loose its next and now final volley of torps. But what had killed it? Then he saw another Phalanx battery, this one a good 500 meters away from the sealed main gate and the MCP, loose its salvo. Although the launcher itself was scarcely discernable, its volley of 20 independently targeting micro torps was like a giant arrow pointing directly back at the Viking. There was an imperceptible fraction of a second between first glimpsing the pale orange trail of ionized air and the thunderous explosion of the Viking.  
  
"Good Lord! Where in the HELL did these damn Klingons get their hands on HVMs?!?" Peter muttered over the sudden icy squeaks of terror produced by the MCP's staff and crew. Probably the same place that they got power armor, tanks, APCs and that orbiting fleet the back of his mind whispered. The Hyper Velocity Missile was little more than an impulse engine with an armored nose. While shuttles and light starships could go that speed in atmosphere, it generally chewed up the scenery and a slight miscalculation in navigation would cause very bad things to happen, like smashing into a hill or even a small tree at a significant portion of lightspeed. Though the contact with a tree wouldn't likely do much to say a frigate, a shuttle could be thrown slightly off course, and that could be enough to cause it to slam into the ground before it could regain stability. Fighting in atmosphere was generally limited to high mach in order to enable finer control in weapons delivery and targeting and to limit the chance of accidents. HVMs on the other hand didn't have to worry about things like that, for they were intent only on their kamikaze runs on their assigned target. In planetary distances, the HMV appeared to hit as soon as it was launched. They wouldn't do much to assault shuttles, and nothing at all to light starships, but they were deadly against light tanks and APCs. Heavy tanks could survive a few hits, but even they feared HVMs.  
  
Someone in the foreword defensive positions was on the ball, because their Grav Gun answered the HMV crews. Within seconds, a withering barrage of AP projectiles was flaying the tree line. The miniscule seeker heads in the AP rounds locked on to the enemy power armor and perforated the double two man teams before they could relocate. Then it was the foreword defensive positions turn to be attacked. Unknown to everyone except the Grand Alliance and the Orion Cartel, the Orion's had taken the standard TE Grav Gun and modified it so that every race in the Grand Alliance had a version they could use. Where the Imperials had expected to easily trace back phaser and disruptor fire to their owners, all they saw were their comrade's dying from the virtually invisible AP rounds fired by the Klingon version of the Imperials own Grav Gun. Hundreds of Imperials died in spite of their armor's cammo, because the Klingon strike team had been hiding under stealth since the moment they began digging their positions.  
  
"All units open fire, I want that bush leveled as far back as our weapons reach!" Peter said over the command channel. The light speed nature of the whisker com laser caused the entire defensive perimeter to open fire a split second after he finished. The trees ringing the cleared kill zone around the Palace writhed and were cut down by the sword like swath of AP rounds, PPC fire and Phalanx torps. Soon the forest for miles around the Palace was a tumbled, splintered, cratered and flaming ruin. Infantry slapped fresh mags' home in their Grav Guns then turned their attention back to searching for the Klingons. 


	48. Chapter 46

- CHAPTER 46 -  
  
- Section 31 10th Fleet Operating Under Phase Cloak, Qo'noS Orbit -  
  
The bridge of the Section 31 modified Wraith that was Section's 10th Fleet flagship was deathly quiet. First, Sector 10 Defensive Fleet had been all but crushed after scarcely a minute of combat by what appeared to be a mostly Klingon attack fleet. There were a smattering of Cardassian Hideki's, Galors and Keldons, along with a few ships that were unknown but most certainly of Cardassian design. Fewer in number yet still present were ships that looked like modern descendants from ancient Lyran, Gorn and Mirak designs. The Breen were here as well, their claw like asymmetrical vessels unmistakable. A similar sized portion of the enemy fleet as the Cardassian contingent was made up of entirely new vessels. They appeared almost raptor like, and seeing as how the only former major power not accounted for was the Romulans, it stood to reason that they were the new Romulan vessels. The small yet powerful fleet of Section warships hid behind its impenetrable phase cloak and watched the enemy fleet as it descended around Qo'noS and began to birth drop ships and assault shuttles.  
  
Getting as detailed scans as they could of both all of the new enemy craft, paying especially close attention to the Bastion sized warship of evident Klingon design, the fleet of 1 Wraith, 5 Sovereigns, 3 Galaxies, 10 Prometheuses and 30 Soulwolfs turned out of orbit. Engaging slipstream for Section 31 Covert Starbase 334 in sector 13 to report what they had had dropped into their lap to a higher authority. Though decloaking and helping Sector 10's defenders attack might have held them off for a while longer, they would have been incapacitated just like the rest of the Starfleet vessels. They wouldn't have done much good, and they would have undoubtedly allowed Section's most secret weaponry to fall into the enemy's hands. The enemy was doing far to well as it was, they didn't need any freebies. But if a counter to their new weapon couldn't be found, there was nothing between Qo'noS and Sol that would even make them slow down.  
  
What the Section fleet didn't know was that virtually simultaneously, similar fleets such as the one attacking Qo'noS were attacking Cardassia Prime, Romulus, Lyra, Mir, Gornus and Breen Prime. They were also meeting with rapid success in their attacks, and it would only be a matter of time before they turned their sights away from retaking their traditional space and shifted to revenge against their Terran oppressors. And if this single fleet would suffice to eliminate the Terran Empire, the damage that all of them put together could reek was unimaginable.  
  
- Qo'noS Planetary Palace, that same time -  
  
The MCP's sensors told the sad tale all too readily. Though the surrounding countryside was devastated, in many places the very ground itself turned to a molten cauldron of hell birthed on the surface of the world, it wasn't enough. Nor had Peter deluded himself into believing that it would be. Modern weaponry might be immensely destructive, even though his army weapons were mere pop guns compared to what starships threw around, yet even it was unable to stop a determined enemy. Especially one that outnumbered your own forces at least 1000 to one and had heavy armor and artillery to back up their numbers. Qualitatively the enemy was proving an even match to the Imperial Army units stationed on Qo'noS which in and of itself was bad enough. But mated with their quantitative superiority and firm control of the high orbitals ensured their eventual victory. The Klingons knew this all to well and were pressing home their attacks in spite of their initial losses. The initial assault waves of APC's, infantry and tanks had been crushed just short of the palace walls, as testified by the still burning hulks of armor strewn across the open field that now ringed the palace. It was sheer good luck that none of the vehicles fusion bottles had let go, lest they take out nearly a whole side of the pentagon shaped outer wall. The safeties had functioned properly on all of them though, sending the reactants bleeding out of emergency shunts instead of mixing and going critical.  
  
The mobile shield emitters that had been emplaced to fill the gap between the planetary surface and the umbrella like theatre defense shield were shimmering nearly constantly now as the enemy opened up on them with everything that was in range. All his own troops could do was sit and wait. While the fixed installations mounted in the outer armored walls of the Palace could be tied in to the frequency windows of the shield emitters, his troop's weaponry couldn't. Thus they were stuck idle behind the shields, the heavy weaponry lancing out above their heads the only defiance offered against the oncoming enemy. While the warship grade quantum tubes and PPC fire the fixed weaponry were putting out were welcome, it was the helpless waiting, the inability to do anything that itched away at Peter.  
  
He stared angrily at the approaching line heavy tanks, barely seen behind their camouflage skins. What gave them away was when they volleyed their disruptor turrets at the ever-weakening shield.  
  
"Sir," one of his staff in the MCP said, to emotionally exhausted to do more than list the cold hard facts in a monotone, "the shield in sector 5 is nearing failure. Breech of the perimeter on that flank is estimated in one minute. PPC tubes are beginning to overheat due to extended use." Which was true, Peter thought with mild surprise, they had been in use for close to eight hours now, which would put strain on any dirtside cooling system that didn't have space to lend a helping hand. Had the Palace really been under attack for such a long period of time. Oh well, time flies when you're having fun! Peter snorted at his own gallows humor.  
  
"What is the status of our depletable munitions?" He queried.  
  
"HVM's are nearly gone thanks to the last enemy push, we have only six left. Phalanx torps are not much better off, we are down to only about 10 apiece for our four remaining mobile AAA batteries. Fixed Quantum batteries are down to only 66 torps total in their collective magazine." Which was actually good news of a sort. The weapons were hitting targets much closer to the frail energy barrier that sheathed the palace. The blast wave from a nearby explosion of a few hundred megatons wouldn't do much of anything to the palace or the vehicles that guarded it even if their shields went down. But his exposed armored infantry were another story. Though their power armor was tough, it wasn't that tough, and aside from it, all they had were their foxholes and prayer to protect them from the hell on earth growing up around them.  
  
As the staffer spoke, the canopy shield allowed another volley of the nearly depleted torpedoes through to strike at an attacking frigate. It then shimmered as the wreckage of the targeted B'rel slammed into it only to skip along it's domed surface to finally crash to earth a good 10 klicks away. Along the horizon, a near continuous wave of green heavy disruptor bolts rained down on the straining perimeter shields. Far too few pulse phaser cannons replied back at them. A few had been taken out in the earlier attacks, some had already succumbed to overheating and shut down, their emitters fused. Then, with a final pop of sound and shower of sparks, the shield emitter that had been covering Palace perimeter sector 5 died. The final barrier of armor that covered the PPC batteries and torpedo launchers in sector began to develop glowing craters as the disruptors steadily ate away at its now exposed surface.  
  
"Transfer the reserve armored infantry to sector 5. Tell them to hold as long as they can."  
  
The last of the Palace Guard's infantry activated their AG thrusters and hopped over to dig in beside what was left of sector 5's defenders. The enemy's heavy hover tanks and APC's were already passing where the shield had been, with armored infantry taking what shelter they could behind them. A handful of Imperial infantry opened up with their PPHC's and HVM's, causing the shields of a few tanks and APC's to flare and die. When they brewed up, they added their own deafening explosions to the din of combat. There were to few defenders left to stop the advance though, and the dead tanks surviving brethren slaughtered the infantry who dared defy them. The breach widened, and more of the enemy streamed past the mangled and dead Imperials. The few remaining infantry guarding perimeter sector 1 and the MCP shifted orientation and began to send a flail of AP grav gun rounds towards the oncoming infantry. But that to was considerably lower than what is should have been. Grav gun rounds were also dwindling to non- existence, and the lone replicator in the palace that could manufacture them was both running low on proper bulk element reserves and was unable to meet the massive demand anyway.  
  
"They're getting to close, evacuate the MCP and return to the Palace. We're all being demoted to infantry till our capture of death." The rear hatch popped open and the staffers nearest the door exited first to open a path in the Conquistador's cramped interior for the Commandant to exit. He was just stepping down onto the ground when two HVM's found their mark on the MCP. The force of their combined kinetic impact caused the Conquistador to splinter with the sound of a massive clang. The MCP's explosion scant inches behind him picked up Peter and threw him off of the ground and into the armored flank of the palace wall. It was only thanks to his power armor and personal shield that he survived at all. Pieces of flaming white-hot shrapnel landed about him, starting small fires in the short dry grass near the palace wall. Other than being slightly dazed, Peter found himself only slightly worse for the wear. His power armor was another thing entirely. His HUD showed that his shield capacitor was depleted and his aft armor severely compromised. The suits left shoulder and hip joints were lightly damaged, limiting their full range of movement slightly. The micro fusion reactor that was the suits power supply was only operating at 23% capacity, which meant that shields would recharge very slowly unless he hooked up to an external power supply. Looking at his hands, he saw that his cammo skin had been damaged, because his hands showed only the matte gray of unpowered cammo. Peter needed to get under cover fast. The enemy assault would be upon him in seconds.  
  
Scrambling up from where the explosion had thrown him on his stomach, Peter scurried over to a nearby staffer who was slowly getting up. Grav gun bullets splattered the wall next to him, and he thanked God that both his ECM was still operating and that the enemy had fired homing shots instead of boresight. The small seeker head in a grav gun bullet homed in on the ECM generated signature thrown a few feet away from the generator. The first staffer seemed to be all right, but the only other one whom had preceded the Commandant from the MCP laid motionless in the smoldering short grass. Peter's suit sensors showed no sign of life in the staffer, and it was evident why. There was a meter long splinter of alloy jutting out of the side of the staffer's power armor. Peter had been terribly lucky, for that dead staffer could have just as easily been him. Taking in the staffer's death in a glance, Peter grabbed a hold of his sole surviving staffers arm and bolted for the small personnel portal through the palace wall.  
  
"Activate personnel access hatch Alpha 01, authorization Peter Issard, Palace security Commandant, Code Alpha Alpha Nine Charley Enable." A series of 10 doors' irised open after verifying Peter's IFF beacon and commed security code. Each was over a foot thick of laminated alloy and armor. The twin survivors from the MCP dashed through with the armored doors' irising shut behind them. After their passage, a faint burst of sound was heard as forcefields snapped back on between each of the 10 closed doors'. The personnel and larger equipment and vehicle door beside it were almost stronger than the rest of the wall thanks to their multiple layers of armor plate and forcefields. Giving the still slightly dazed staffer over to the waiting medics, Peter half ran half jumped across the courtyard to the entrance of the palace's bunker. Like the outer personnel door before, the bunker's armored portals required both either a clean identity scan or an IFF beacon plus a personal authorization code to open. Peter again supplied his code and the fresh set of armored doors swooshed aside.  
  
After rushing down the corkscrew corridor and opening another four sets of blast doors, he finally arrived at the turboshaft that would take him into the bunker. The ride was a good ways deeper into the earth, but the turbolift took him there rapidly, making the distance seem much less than it really was. The lift doors opened out onto the Spartan furnishings of the bunker. The bunker itself was deep enough under ground and armored enough that it could survive several direct hits from heavy torpedoes. If the enemy had something approaching the phaser lance in power, even the bunker's defenses wouldn't prove much of an obstacle, and judging from the attack on Terra they did indeed have a comparable weapon. But if all they had wanted to do was destroy the palace, they could have done that from orbit and not wasted so much resources on trying to take it via ground forces. No, they wanted something in the palace itself, and despite the common myth of Klingon's not taking prisoners, Peter was willing to bet that that was exactly what they wanted. Peter was something of a student of Klingon culture, the true one, not the one twisted by the Terran Empire to serve its propaganda purposes. He knew that the Klingon's took prisoners when they thought it would best serve their aims, as the evidently did now.  
  
The Planetary Governor of Qo'noS and Sector 10 was cowering like a terrified animal in the corner of the bunker, the ministrations of the two female slaves he brought with him doing nothing to calm him. He only vaguely resembled the slug of a man that had gloated on his good fortune mere days earlier. Oh how he had relished his newfound power upon learning of the death of Sector 10s Council Member. It would mean that he would soon ascend to the upper echelons of power in the Empire, for the Council Member had been grooming him as his successor for years now. The old fart had been as impotent as a piece of bleached wood, and it as a good thing for Governor Stiles that he was, for it meant that he had to search for his successor outside of blood ties. Yet now all that was for nothing. There had been no time for the Governor to evacuate, and now he was stuck here, doomed to whatever fate the Klingon's had in store for him. 


	49. Chapter 47

- CHAPTER 47 -  
  
- ILV Scarlet Fang, Lyra System, Sector 19, That same time -  
  
Zathran stood hunched over his weapons officer. Usually such close proximity would cause both males to become anxious, but not today. Today was the liberation of Lyra, and both officers were concentrating on their duties far more than their instinctive responses.  
  
"There!" Zathran pointed to the icon that indicated an Imperial Steamrunner wing. "Target that group and order the rest of our claw to follow." Orders went out to the rest of the Lyran vessels in the attack wing, and they all formed up and shot off to engage the latest enemy. The Breen weapons were proving extremely useful, but that wing of Steamrunner's had broken off from the main enemy fleet relatively unnoticed under cloak and was lining up for an attack on the Flagship. Other escorts, including a wing of eager Klingon Vor'cha's, were vectoring in to attack the Steamrunner's as well, but Zathran's claw was the closest.  
  
"ESG capacitor fully charged, the rest of our claw reports the same." Zathran's weapons officer said, his voice showing the faint growl of anticipation.  
  
"Full power to the impulse engines!" Zathran roared, his sensitive nose taking in the full sent of a pack on the hunt. While this hunt wasn't the same as the ancient Lyran's executed against the meat animals on Lyra, it did have similarities. Every member must perform his or her assigned duties to the utmost if the attack was to succeed. Zathran stalked back to his command chair, the yellow, lime green and crimson displays of his cruisers bridge standing out sharply on the healthy sheen of his space black pelt. The Scarlet Fang's lime and gold hull leapt to full impulse, her wingmates forming up and matching her maneuver as they made the final charge to their quarry at 80 PSL. Phaser beams, disruptor bolts and quantum torpedoes crisscrossed the intervening space between the Lyran cruisers and their quarry as the battle raged about them. It was lessening steadily as the new Breen weapon began to take its toll against the Imperial fleet, yet was still thick enough to pose a hazard. Yet not a single beam, either targeting them deliberately or fired at another vessel parallel to their path, struck Zathran's pack as they gained the range on their prey.  
  
The Imperial officer commanding the Steamrunner wing was no fool. Seeing that multiple vessels were converging on his position, he dropped his cloak and brought his shields and armor fully online with his weapons following shortly thereafter. The Steamrunner was a highly maneuverable torpedo heavy platform, relying on its quad foreword burst fire tubes and dual rapid fire tubes to dish out most of its damage rather than its smallish phaser arrays. It was considerably maneuverable for its size, which made such a set up effective. It could bring its tubes to bear, fire off its salvo, then turn away before most ships could bring down its foreword shields.  
  
It was exactly what the Steamrunner's did now, swerving to target Zathran's cruisers, sending a torrent of 160 quantums towards them. That much firepower should prove sufficient to at least heavily damage his cruisers, but the Imperials didn't know about the latest advances in ESG technology.  
  
"Ready for ESG Radius Two activation on my mark. Steady." the massive volley closed on the Lyran cruisers, turning the foreword view screen solidly blue white as the wave of quantums blotted out the stars. "Steady. NOW!" With a surge of power that sounded like a synthesized growl, the invisible energy bubble engulfed the Scarlet Fang and her claw mates like a mother protecting her cubs. A soft hum filled the ship, assuring the crews that their protection was there and operating. The sound was almost like a mother's purr, and just as welcome. The massive wave of zero point warheads closed in their terminal attack runs. and disappeared as they encountered the ESG field. It flared briefly like a dome of fire when the quantums disappeared, but other than that, there was no outward sign of the quantums destruction. They just disappeared from the tactical plot and space itself.  
  
"Execute ramming attack!" Zathran roared in triumph. The Steamrunner's had been so sure that their attack would stop Zathran's ships cold that they had turned again to continue their attack runs on the ILV Ivory Fang. They bean to start panicked maneuvers to take them out of the high-speed collision courses the Lyran's were on, but they were already far to late. "They scatter and run like a heard of Gallers!" Zathran said, for the Steamrunner wing did indeed look like a spooked heard of the four legged herbivore meat animals from Lyra. The range dropped with stunning rapidity as the Imperial vessels broke off their high speed attack runs to maneuver violently in vain attempts to escape. Their short phaser strips came into play. They were not as powerful nor as numerous as those on a Galaxy or Sovereign, but they were all the Steamrunner's had left. Shields flared on the Lyran cruisers, yet they were mere pinpricks compared to what happened to the Imperials.  
  
ESG field encountered first shields, then armor as the Lyran cruisers bulled the larger Imperial vessels out of their path. The ESG made the generating vessels immune to any form of kinetic shock from the ram, shunting the target around its bubble even if struck straight on. On board the Steamrunner's, hull plating buckled and splintered as shields failed. Normally fully intact shields would barely be touched by a full impulse ram by even a similarly sized unit. Yet the ESG leached the shields energy, draining them rapidly and allowing the ESG field to adversely interact with the hull beneath. SIF did its best, but it just wasn't good enough in some cases as three of the five Steamrunner's broke into pieces under the extreme strain. The entire attack, done at high impulse, was over in an eye blink, yet the five Lyran vessels left three destroyed and two heavily damaged Imperials in their wake in exchange for no damage other than slightly reduced shields from the last ditch phaser attack against them.  
  
Suddenly, the remnants of the Imperial fleet turned tail and fled. They had been savaged horribly, and no longer had sufficient strength to stop the Lyran fleet even if they didn't posses the Breen weapon. The Imperial commander had decided to cut his losses and fall back to another system in the hopes that reinforcements would arrive soon enough to make the Lyran's current victory a temporary one.  
  
Off to the edge of the slackening battle, a Breen Cruiser swung around to line up on its next victim, a fleeing Imperial Akira. The Akira was laying down a steady barrage of quantums and phasers from its aft offensive array. There were even four streams of PPC fire and three streams of Phalanx micro torpedoes reaching out to tag its pursuers. An upgraded Akira then, an excellent prize indeed. The Breen Energy Dampening Weapon fired from the vessels asymmetrical prow, sending a silvery ball of energy towards the fleeing Akira. It slammed home, wreathing the Akira in the customary surges of energy. And nothing happened. The fire from the Akira didn't abate one bit. Its engines didn't shut down forcing the massive warship on a ballistic track. It continued on its course as if nothing happened, then once it reached the edge of the warp field inhibitor, leapt to high warp. The Breen commander made a note to have his weapon looked over thoroughly for defects or damage. Nothing else could explain why the Imperial vessel had slipped through his clutches with so much ease.  
  
- Qo'noS, Planetary Palace, Secure Bunker, That same time -  
  
"The enemy is at the palace walls sir." Peter told the softly moaning prostrate from in the bunkers corner. Looking up as if finally realizing there was a new being in the bunker, the Governor seemed to grow a spine. It was easy to do when the other party was both under your command and incapable of giving anything back upon pain of the agonizer or worse. It was far, FAR easier than contemplating the raving Klingon hordes that were descending on the Palace from all sides like a plague as the Governor had been doing till Peter provided a convenient target.  
  
"No doubt due to your incompetence!" The terrified Governor lashed out, his fear causing him to attack the one whom was most responsible for the long delay in that occurrence. "You shall return and fight to the last man. The enemy must be pushed off of Qo'noS!"  
  
"That is impossible to do sir." Peter said, forcing a sigh away that longed to come out ahead of his words. "You saw what the enemy's new weapon system did to the battle stations and Fleet units assigned here. Once the enemy controlled the space above with as large of a fleet as the one they have and took out our planetary shields, the end was already determined." Then Peter snorted behind his armored helmet. "To the last man. we are very nearly there now, and with all contact lost with the other planetary garrisons and no reinforcements coming in the eight hours plus since the attack began, I seriously doubt that there is any serious resistance left anywhere on Qo'noS."  
  
"Yet more incompetence! You will pay dearly for you extreme mishandling of this situation!"  
  
"I think not!" Peter snorted again.  
  
"What. WHAT DID YOU SAY!!" the Governor's eyes bulged in terror fueled rage.  
  
"I said I think not Governor Stiles!" Peter shot back, and the enhanced force his external speakers gave his words seemed to cause the Governor to realize that he was arguing with a highly trained warrior in full power armor. It was usually easy for him to forget such things because anyone lower than him could be bossed around with ease, and due to his position, that meant most everybody in the sector. He was only now beginning to truly comprehend that his position now meant absolutely nothing. "Within a few minutes the Klingon's will be here, in this very bunker. Nothing you can say or I could have done is going to change that, and that means that the Qo'noS system and likely the entire sector will be under Klingon rule again very soon." As if to underscore his words, the computer broke in.  
  
"Palace perimeter wall breached. Enemy forces are inside the palace complex. At current rate of advance it is estimated they will breach the Secure Bunker in 18 minutes." The computers warning elicited a squeal of terror from both the two female slaves and the Governor.  
  
"There, you see?! We are finished, it is merely a matter of time. They evidently want you alive for some reason. Why I cannot fathom, for you have absolutely no knowledge that will be of use to them, unless they actually desire knowledge of how to shirk responsibility and buy your way to power. You don't deserve to live when so many true heroes of Terra have given their lives today thanks to political entities like yourself. If you and your superiors had detached the fleet units sooner, this entire fiasco would have been averted." Pure terror filled Stile's eyes as Peter's words registered. He began to blubber like a baby, begging for his life. I don't think that I'll even give the Klingon's the satisfaction of getting their hands on you." Peter raised his right arm, lining up the computer- generated sight in his HUD with the groveling, whimpering Governor. The phaser emitter on his suits forearm spat a single pulse that vaporized the Governor where he stood.  
  
"Computer, shut down palace defenses." Peter said.  
  
"Warning, outer perimeter is breached. Deactivation of palace defenses not recommended."  
  
"Understood. Shut down the defenses."  
  
"Authorization required."  
  
"Authorization Peter Issard, Palace security Commandant, Code Alpha Alpha Nine Charley Enable."  
  
"Authorization granted. Shutting down defenses." Far above on the surface, the theater shield over the palace flashed off and the surviving defensive batteries powered down. All locked blast doors and forcefield barriers were retracted and shut down. A roar sprang from the Klingon's assaulting the Palace. It was a terrible, scary sound to human ears, but there were few of them left alive above the palace. Seconds later, a power armored Klingon warrior appeared in the open door of the turbolift. It had taken time to melt through the blast doors and overload the shields that lined the turboshaft, but suddenly they had disappeared back into the walls of the shaft. Even the troublesome automated phaser batteries had stopped their attacks on the Klingon invaders. The first Klingon through the now defenseless turboshaft and into the Bunker quickly saw that it was occupied by only three beings. Two were cowering alien slaves. The third was a figure clad in scorched power armor. He was standing facing the turbolift doors with his arms clasped behind himself.  
  
"Where is the Governor?!" The Klingon's artificially enhanced voice demanded after his grav gun was leveled on Peter. At such close range, it couldn't help but hit, and given his armors' current condition, Peter knew that the first one would be lethal. Not that it mattered now anyway. The suit's computer was carrying out his final orders. His external audio pickups heard more intruders descending the shaft. Behind his mask, Peter smiled to himself.  
  
"The Governor? I killed him. And now I'll kill you."  
  
"What?" The Klingon said, perplexed. Then he began to laugh. "Are you trying to make a joke Terran?!"  
  
"No joke. Watch. BOOM!" The Klingon laughed again, but his gun never wavered from Peter's armored torso. Then Peter's suit began to whine, softly at first, but getting steadily louder. The Klingon stopped laughing, his helmet cocking to one side as he tried to figure out just what was happening. The last thing he saw was an impossibly bright flash as Peter's fusion reactor overloaded less than six feet away from him. A fountain of blue fire and nondescript debris jetted upward through the fully open turboshaft to consume the bunker's surface entrance. Nearby Klingon's were knocked off their feet, and the few unlucky enough to be caught in the shaft itself were disintegrated. Peter's final act of defiance took seven enemy infantry with him, including the overeager brigade commander who went into the open turboshaft against the advice of his junior officers. 


	50. Chapter 48

- CHAPTER 48 -  
  
- The Octagon, Terra, Sol System -  
  
The now sole ruling body of the Terran Empire sat deep beneath Terra's surface, luxuriating in a massage delivered by scantily clad alien slaves. They weren't his usual ones, for these were attached to the Octagon, drawn from the communal pool that all high ranking personnel in the Octagon used. Having a permanent stable of slaves on hand prevented any form of security breach, because the Terran Empire controlled all forms of communication and transportation into and out of the base. Jack had to admit that though they weren't up to his personal slaves' capabilities, they weren't half-bad either.  
  
Everything was proceeding as planned. Many high-ranking Starfleet personnel in Sector One had been executed. Jack had particularly enjoyed seeing the look on Admiral Jean-Luc Picard's face when he had been accused of treason to the Empire. While an excellent combat commander, Jean-Luc had been far too showy in his desire to join the Council. That kind of ambition was just the kind of thing Jack was trying to weed out of Starfleet's upper echelons. Killing off such individuals had the added bonus of clearing the way for officers that owed their position to Jack Chambers. People like newly minted Admiral Thomas Riker. While Riker may not be near as good of a combat officer as Picard was, he was malleable and followed orders. That made him an asset to the new regime instead of a liability. He took command of the Enterprise's Flag Bridge from Picard while the now Captain Lore took command of the Enterprise's Main Bridge. While the Android's thoughts and motivations were a bit of an unknown entity, he had served the Empire with distinction. As long as he continued to do so and followed Jack's orders, things would be fine for him. Fleet Admiral Nechayev, sadistic CO that she was, had also been executed, and over 100 other Flag officers joined her over the last few weeks since the terrorist attack on Terra. The few original ones that remained were to terrified to try anything to remove him from power. The younger officers were to confused to organize any resistance of their own. Starfleet had always been firmly loyal to the Terran Empire. To have so many of their CO's executed for treason was as shock they wouldn't soon forget. Glancing at the clock, Jack rolled over and swung his feet off of the massage table and onto the floor. It was time to make a little call.  
  
"Leave, I am finished with you for now." The slaves gathered up their oils and backed bowing out of the room. Once they were gone, leaving Jack alone except for the Fury pair in the adjacent room and his new security detail in the hall, he turned towards a briefcase sized com unit. Plugging it into the appropriate jack in the wall, the outgoing communication channels were open to him. The unit used the latest Section 31 scrambling devices, and was only able to talk to another such device as itself. Section itself didn't have any current device to crack through the scramble, so Jack felt secure in using it, even here where all com traffic was intently monitored. He punched in his access code, and the computer read his DNA profile and retina print, ensuring that the code and user matched. It then sent out a priority signal, usurping all other signals that might be ahead of it in subspace com access. The signal was steered to a specific volume of space. It was the prearranged spot where Jack could contact Peter at that time if he needed to. After a few minutes, the terminal went from the standby logo to show the smiling face of Peter O'tole.  
  
"Well, well. Mr. Chambers, what an unexpected surprise. Everything is going as planned on your end. At least that's what my spy's have been telling me. Very well done. So what do I owe the privilege of your call?"  
  
"You damn well know why. My fool daughter is still in your pawns' custody. I am here to demand her immediate release like we agreed to when you first said that she had been captured."  
  
"Fine, as a gesture of good will, I shall have her released immediately. She will be on a Orion destroyer within minutes and back on her way to you."  
  
"See that she is." And with that, Jack terminated the call.  
  
- Orion Dreadnought Godfather, Under cloak in deep space near the former Mirak/Lyran border -  
  
"What should we do Don O'tole?" One of Peter's underlings asked. He was on the other side of the briefcase sized com terminal and thus wasn't in the camera's view when the call came in. Peter, thought about it for a few moments.  
  
"I am sorely tempted to have her executed, or even to keep her alive as an asset in any negotiations that are going to take place after this is done. But her father has served our purpose well, and I just can't bring myself to break my word to him. Take her back to her father. He is about to have a few merchant vessels worth of unexpected bad news dropped in his lap. His reaction to it is going to be bad enough, there is no sense bringing family into the mix. This is business, nothing personal. I don't want that to change for the time being. Understood?"  
  
"Perfectly Don O'tole. I shall make the necessary arrangements to have the young Dorothy Chambers released immediately." Then Peter's underling bowed deeply, turned and left the relatively Spartan quarters of the Orion Cartel's most powerful criminal. Once he was gone, a small smile played at the corner of his lips. The game he was playing with Jack Chambers might be business, but it was fun to turn the tigers tail and get away with it. The Terran Empire, the most powerful force in the universe, the fountain head of the force that had gone on to dominate close to three quarters of the galaxy, was about to be brought down by a crime family. It was a classic David vs. Goliath story, and like all the others, Goliath felt that it would win easily. News should be reaching Terra shortly about the attacks the Grand Alliance was making, and what Peter wouldn't give to see Jack's face when the news hit home. Peter smile turned to a hearty laugh.  
  
Jack had been swayed to help Peter O'tole, like Greg Betare had been, by the lure of absolute power over the galaxy's most powerful force. Yet neither knew that they were BOTH being used for the Cartel's gain. Once the Terran Empire was wiped out, the Orion Cartel would be there to pick up the shattered pieces. The Ferengi were right, war IS good for business. And this war had been orchestrated from the outset to benefit the Orion Cartel above all others. The other pawns, like Jack and Greg and the Grand Alliance only saw what Peter wanted them to see. As a result, all sides had jumped at the dangled bait, rarely searching for the whys of the Cartel's aid, their greed and revenge acting as blinders. All exactly like Peter O'tole had predicted they would. The other, nearly extinct crime families had balked at first, but approaching them was merely a courtesy. They lacked the power to do anything anyway, and once they to saw how much they stood to gain, they jumped on board nearly as fast as the Grand Alliance members did. Peter looked over the reports on his desk. The initial attacks were nearly completed, with each planet recovered intact. Even now, some of the fleets were striking out to nearby systems, expanding the borders of their newly acquired space. There had been some losses, but they were more than made up for by the "acquisition" of Imperial warships and stations. After a few hours had passed, more than enough time to subdue their crews, the effects of the Breen Energy Dampening weapon ceased, and all systems on the now Grand Alliance stations and vessels went back up to full readiness. It was a truly ingenious weapon, and nothing would stop the Grand Alliance's fleets short of Terra.  
  
- The Octagon, Terra, Sol System, That same time -  
  
The com terminal went dead as Jack killed the channel. After the few light attacks by the conquered races were dealt with, Mr. Peter O'tole would have to be dealt with. He needed to be taught the proper respect for the most powerful man in the known galaxy, even if he had been partially responsible for allowing Jack to become that man. His desk terminal beeped for his attention.  
  
"Council Member Chambers here."  
  
"Councilman, this is Ops. We have a report here that I think you need to see immediately." The Commodore seated in Ops looked terrified. So it begins Jack thought. A few attacks by minor fleets, easily crushed by Starfleet counterattacks. Just enough to cause light panic in the populace and cement in my position as leader of the Empire.  
  
"Put it up." The com screen switched to a recording. The ship's bridge looked like an Akira classes, but it was hard to tell with all of the smoke billowing around. Engineering teams were making frantic repairs to battle damage in the shot's background.  
  
"This is the ISS Agamemnon, Commodore Gilles Leblanc commanding, to any Imperial vessel! We have been attacked by a massive enemy fleet in Sector 10. They appeared to be made up of mostly Klingon units but there were Gorn, Mirak, Lyran, Romulan, Breen and Cardassian signatures present as well. There were even a handful of Ferengi Marauders there. Be advised that there were many new ship designs present for all factions. Fleet size as of our withdrawal is as follows: 1 Monitor. 50 Super Dreadnoughts, 600 Battleships, 1,000 Battlecruisers, 3,000 Heavy Cruisers and 10,000 Destroyers and Frigates."  
  
Peter blinked in astonishment. That was no light fleet. They had enough ships there to take and hold all of the Klingon Empire's former territory for a long time. This was all wrong. It had to be a mistake. IT HAD TO!  
  
"Current estimates," the harried Commodore in the soot streaked white and gold uniform continued, "are that close to ¼ of 10th Fleet and 1/5 the orbital defenses of Qo'noS were captured intact."  
  
Jack gasped. How in the HELL did that HAPPEN?!? With their mobile units alone this enemy fleet was dangerous enough. With that much deep space infrastructure and captured vessels, getting Qo'noS back under Imperial control was going to prove very costly. It might even prove necessary to Cleanse Qo'noS to prevent grievously unnecessary casualties that Starfleet couldn't afford right now. Fleet strengths were still being built back up to pre Imperial/Borg War levels. Jack's eyes narrowed. Just what was that back stabbing bastard O'tole up to? He had promised to deliver a credible threat, not a FUCKING invasion fleet! The message continued as Jack's thoughts whirled a mile a minute.  
  
"The enemy fleet also employed a new weapon that disables all ship and station systems upon contact regardless of intact shielding and armor."  
  
"Oh my God." Things went from bad to worse when Jack thought they couldn't go any lower.  
  
"I am forwarding all data currently gathered on the weapons system along with my report. The remnants of 10th Fleet under my command are proceeding to Starbase 138 at maximum warp, but there are already signs that we are being pursued by most of the enemy fleet. As it stands, we are of insufficient number to hold them at Starbase 138. Unless we are strongly reinforced, we shall fall back again to Starbase 125. We require as many vessels as possible to meet us at either Starbase 138 or 125. All available units need to proceed there immediately for rendezvous. Agamemnon out."  
  
"That's the extent of it sir. Shortly thereafter, the signal was jammed again."  
  
"I'm on my way to Ops. I shall be there directly." Jack said in a curt voice.  
  
"Understood sir." The Commodore gulped as Jack closed the connection.  
  
Jack dressed quickly, the cowled robe slipping over him without much bother. He strode towards the suite's exit, with Frank and Victoria entering from the other room of the suite to walk a step behind and on either side of him. You didn't have to have a Furies' empathic and telepathic abilities to tell Jack was furious. That was strange in and of itself, because Jack only showed what he wanted others to see. The Fury pair wondered what could get the supreme overlord of the Terran Empire so flustered as to show what he was truly feeling. By the time the short trip to Ops was done though, he had regained his composure and his customary mask was back in place. Ops was in sheer bedlam, with officers and enlisted personnel scurrying about, and orders being shouted from across the room.  
  
"Sir!" The Commodore shouted to Jack in order to be heard over the din, and there was a note of panic in it. "We have just received communiqués similar to the one you saw from Sectors 4 through 9 and 11 through 25. All major sectors were hit with overwhelming superiority in numbers and all encountered the same new weapons system. Qo'noS, Cardassia Prime, Romulus, Lyra, Mir, Gornus, Breen Prime. hell even Ferenginar has been overrun. Losses in occupied systems containing fleet units and defensive installations are estimated at close to ¼ captured, 1/5 destroyed. I have already dispatched a galaxy wide alert, bringing all operational units and installations to full battle readiness. Many of the enemy fleet's are already expanding their defensive perimeters, taking out nearby system pickets and lightly defended secondary and tertiary bases. All leaves have been canceled and all repairs that can be done in space are being rotated out of the shipyards so that we can thicken our lines.  
  
"Just the same, with the forces we can field immediately, we are only slightly above parity numbers wise with the combined enemy fleets. We can bring in some fleets from the frontiers, but they will take a few days to get here. By then it could be a moot point. At their current rate of advance, we estimate that they will be in striking range of Sol in two days. With their new weapons system, they can take out any ship or station in their path with one shot." The Commodore braced himself for the worst that was yet to come. But Jack Chambers needed to know the cold hard truth, despite what it might mean for his life expectancy. "Unless we can find a counter to it sir, the Empire WILL fall in three days."  
  
Jack had known that intellectually, but the Commodore spelling it out for him caused the rest of his body to actually believe it. Terror coursed through his body.  
  
"Is there nothing to be done?!" He pleaded, and a small part of him was relieved that he hadn't grabbed the front of the Commodore's uniform and shaken him as he demanded an answer.  
  
"I don't know sir. R&D is working with all available data as we speak, but there just isn't enough to come up with anything more than a basic rudimentary idea of how the weapon works, let alone how to counter it. We may get lucky, but it's a long shot right now."  
  
Jack stumbled over to the vacant command chair, falling down into it before his legs gave out completely and he dropped to the floor in an unceremonious heap. "Dear God. what have I unleashed on the galaxy?!?" He whispered hoarsely, his words lost in the cacophony of Ops 


	51. Chapter 49

- CHAPTER 49 -  
  
- 2nd Fleet, ISS Athena, Enroute to Starbase 665 for repairs, Two weeks earlier -  
  
The massive bulk of the Athena dwarfed her many companions as 2nd Fleet cruised through slipstream. They were still close to a day out from Starbase 665. Work parties in engineering hardsuits and work bees swarmed around the damaged vessels, fixing what they could on their own without yard support. Already, wide swaths of fresh hull plateing and armor were laid down over the hull breaches in Athena's flanks, though massive gaping furrows still remained, showing multiple decks of bent and twisted wreckage. The shiny new skin looked like scabs, highlighted by the scorched and blistered hull surrounding them. Many weapons installations had already been repaired as well, most replaced in their entirety from the Athena's cavernous cargo holds. The swirling aqua tube of slipstream curved around the fleet, widening in diameter as the ships slipstream engines interacted with each other, creating a massive tube through the layer of subspace slipstream employed. The vessels of 2nd Fleet slowed and dropped back into normal space, for they had a final duty to perform for far to many of their comrades.  
  
-Captain's Personal Log, Stardate 334.980.361. It is with a heavy heart that I make this entry. Our dead and wounded have finally been tallied, and the total is every bit as grievous as initially thought. Repairs are ongoing throughout the fleet, yet today, all work shall be placed on hold as we pay our respects to our honored dead. -  
  
All small craft that normally packed Athena's Shuttle Bay One to overflowing were elsewhere, freeing the space for its alternate use. Row upon row of torpedo casings filled most of the floor. There were thousands of them crammed into the shuttle bay deck. Similar set ups were happening on all vessels in 2nd Fleet, for nearly all had taken casualties of greater or lesser extent. The fighter deck on Athena was especially empty, with thousands of coffins as well, most of them empty because there were no bodies for them, even if recovery had been possible.  
  
"Aten HUT!" The Marine Sargent barked. The computer systems in the cavernous Shuttle Bay One of the Athena amplified his voice so that it could be heard everywhere in the vast open space. The assembled officers and honor guard snapped to ridged attention with a quiet scrape of alloy. Imperial dress uniform was basically an ancient Roman Centurion's armor and clothing. The main difference was that all underlying cloths and leather were space black. For Flag officers, the armor and metalwork were polished inlaid alloy of a polished gold color. Non-Flag officers wore silver armor, polished to near mirror like sheen. Ulysses wore his crimson command cloak over his armor. It had been transported over from the Hopolite and had survived the battle intact and unaffected. His silver helmet, complete with obsidian black Mohawk plume, shone brightly under the shuttle bay overhead spotlights. One would think that an outfit that was mostly metal would be heavy, but modern Imperial science had managed to make a very lightweight alloy that otherwise looked like gold and silver for use in Terran Empire dress uniforms. Ulysses still felt that the get up was ridiculous, yet he had to admit that the precise ranks of officers and honor guard did make quite a spectacle decked out in their shining armor. The uniform was as complete as historical records could make it, right down to the archaic shoes and highly polished yet still functional gladus in the hilt on his belt. The short sleeves allowed the flowing alloy of Borg implants to be clearly visible on his left arm. He wasn't the only one with Borg implants visible, but even here, on one of the most populous vessels in all of Starfleet, Ex-Drones were only a good sized minority.  
  
"Fellow warriors of the Terran Empire." Ulysses began. "We are gathered here today to pay final respects to our comrades who so recently gave the ultimate sacrifice in Imperial service. No greater sacrifice can be made than to give ones life in the protection of the Empire, and over 10000 of our fellow officers and enlisted personnel paid it. But their sacrifice wasn't in vain, for the enemy that killed them was driven back, the only way in sealed forever behind a new world." Ulysses had only told P'tel and T'var about the Section 31 vessel's attempt to wipe out all of 2nd Fleet along with the enemy. Now wasn't the time to tell the personnel of 2nd Fleet that they had nearly been killed by one of their own, if Section 31 could be called that, just when they had gained the upper hand of the battle. Most thought that the Genesis attack was a carefully timed and planned maneuver, not a barely avoided catastrophe.  
  
"They died like true warriors, never faltering, never retreating in the face of the enemy. I ask now for a moment of silence in honor of their sacrifice." The arms of the 1000 gathered officers and 2000 gathered NCO's swung upward with machine like precision, each one ending in a textbook perfect salute. The same thing was being done by every living soul in 2nd Fleet. No one in close to 50,000 souls in 2nd Fleet dared breathe a word for the five-minute silence. During that time, the AG drive in the torpedo casings activated in sequence, and rank by rank the black, TE flag draped coffins floated up and out through the forcefield holding in the atmosphere of the shuttle bay. The same thing happened on all the other vessels that lost souls, and far to many coffins spawned in 2nd Fleets wake. So many dead because one man in a powerful position made a colossal blunder. Outside the blue bordered forcefield blocking the shuttle bay opening, a flight of fighters cruised up from astern, they split apart into the ancient missing man formation. Contrary to the propaganda put out by the Bureau of Public Information, not every officer in Starfleet was a monolithic, fierce servant of the empire. There were more than a few misty eyes as the officers and crew watching in person and, for those not able to fit into the shuttle bay, on com screens as they remembered their departed comrades.  
  
The teachings of Spock, however illegal they might be, were more widely subscribed to than the Council and general public believed, especially in Starfleet. They had been a moderating influence, limiting the chaos and wrath present on ships from Kirk's time. It hadn't been entirely stamped out, just looking at numerous corpulent flag officers and petty line officers showed that. But by and large, the excesses present before Spock turning traitor to the Empire were gone. In Section 31 the remained in full force though. And in spite of their belief that there had to be a better way than the current system, only an extremely insignificant few choose not to follow the orders of a superior officer, however horrid those orders might be. Doing so could mean death depending on the CO's whim, so even those that did so only did so once.  
  
"Company, presennnt ARMS!" The honor guard brought their archaic black and silver sub machine guns to their shoulders, aiming out into space.  
  
"Fire!" Twenty Marines fired as one, the explosive crack from their weapons as they fired their blanks filling the shuttle bay.  
  
"Fire!" Again the crack of ancient firearms boomed through the shuttle bay.  
  
"Fire!" A final volley made its thunder, then the Marines brought their guns from their shoulders. They dropped towards the ground stock first. As they touched the deck, 20 left feet lifted and slammed down as one, creating a quieter but no less noticeable thunder of their own.  
  
"Company, DISMISSED!" As one, the officers and crew of 2nd Fleet dropped their salute. Those assembled in the shuttle bay turned in their ranks and left through the multiple exits in perfectly straight lines.  
  
Ulysses, P'tel and T'var entered a turbolift, the other assembled crew and officers respectfully allowing them to take it by themselves.  
  
"Deck 13, section C." Ulysses ordered the lift. It would send them through the bulk of the Athena to the deck and section where all three of their quarters were located. "What a needless waste." Ulysses muttered.  
  
"Agreed, but brooding about past events that can't be changed is illogical." P'tel said quietly from his left.  
  
"Illogical but a very human tendency." T'var said from his right. Her armor had an eagle inlaid on the golden breastplate. It held arrows clutched in its talons and was placed over the Imperial seal of Terra with a single sword down the middle of it. She also wore a cape similar to Ulysses except it was of golden silk instead of red.  
  
"What would you have me do, forget about them!" Ulysses snapped, then nearly instantly sighed and continued in a more level tone. "Sorry. didn't mean to explode at you. It just gets to me that all that death could have been prevented."  
  
"Brooding isn't the same thing as remembering young Captain." T'var said.  
  
Ulysses sighed again. "I know, and I know I shouldn't, but the sheer stupidity of that senile old Bastard."  
  
"What's done is done. Those left behind can only strive not to become like him and prevent those like him from advancing in rank. Part of that responsibility falls on you now Ulysses. You are a Captain now, and you are now one of those who must stop power mongers and those incapable of doing a good job from advancing."  
  
The door opened up to their deck. It was deserted seeing as there were only another few officers assigned to the deck and the trio had taken the first and most direct route to it.  
  
"But that's the problem. I AM one of those kind of people." Ulysses said, self loathing leaching through his command persona's armor for the first time since assuming command of the ill fated Hopolite. It was the first time he had even admitted it to himself, let alone shown it to others. T'var and P'tel turned around and grabbed one shoulder each.  
  
"What ever made you think that you were one of them Ulysses." T'var said, her eyes peering deeply into Ulysses'.  
  
"I killed my captain to become one myself."  
  
"You always had a temper Ulysses. But you didn't kill for personal gain, no matter what you might think. You allowed the darkness to take control. Even Vulcan's have been known to snap if provoked enough. I see your fear now. All the rage that is inside of you, you are unable to exorcise it. You keep it firmly in check, but every once and a while you lose control and lash out at your aggressors. You fear that it will cause you to lose your way." Ulysses merely nodded, not trusting his voice. "If that is what concerns you, you need not be worried. I have never encountered one such as you Ulysses. So much rage in you, yet the bonds that hold it are so strong it rarely gets out. You could be a terror every bit as sadistic as the late Admiral Chriton if not more so, yet you make the conscious choice daily not to let the darkness consume you. As long as you don't let it, you will never be like those kind of people." P'tel nodded her agreement.  
  
"I know you're right, it's just that sometimes the hate is so strong. it scares me."  
  
"Ulysses, I could take away that hate, but in doing so I would have to take away the love that caused it. It would inevitably change you, and not for the better. It is that love that makes you fight against the darkness. Without it, I am not sure what you would become." Ulysses snorted. "What?"  
  
"Here I am being counciled on love and hate by a couple of Vulcans. It's hard to picture you as anything other than logical, emotionless beings."  
  
"We are ruled by logic, but we merely suppress our emotions, not eliminate them."  
  
"I know, I know." Ulysses said. He sighed loudly. "Thanks for the reality check. I needed it."  
  
"Anytime young Mr. Vanguard." The trio continued down the hall to their respective quarters.  
  
- ISS Athena, Main Bridge, 10 minutes later -  
  
The Athena's Main Bridge wasn't as grandiose as her Flag Bridge, but it was nearly so. It was virtually a copy of the Flag Bridge on a slightly smaller scale. Ulysses strode along the carpeted catwalk to his command chair. P'tel, who had exited the turbolift with him, made her way to her own duty station. The duty crew, after bracing to attention and saluting their CO's as they entered the bridge (a courtesy which Ulysses and P'tel returned), went back to their assigned tasks.  
  
"Orders from the Flag Captain." The com officer said. "The Fleet is to proceed back into slipstream as soon as possible."  
  
"Do the other ships report ready?"  
  
"Aye sir, all vessels report ready to engage slipstream."  
  
"Very well. Helm, execute jump to slipstream at your convenience. Proceed on previous course of bearing 330 mark 848."  
  
"Aye sir, executing slip jump on bearing 330 mark 848, max fleet sustainable velocity." For after all, a fleet was only as fast as its slowest ship. The viewscreen's stars stretched to rainbow streaks, but were rapidly blotted out by the onrushing aqua tube of slipstream. The Athena's powerful engines' near silent rumble was steady in Ulysses ears.  
  
"ETA to Starbase 665 is now 20 hours, 34 minutes 5 seconds."  
  
"Thank you XO. That should give us plenty of time for battle drills." Ulysses said with a mischievous smile. 


	52. Chapter 50

- CHAPTER 50 -  
  
- ISS Athena, 20 hours later -  
  
"Sir, I have an all ships message incoming on hypercom from Starfleet Command. Priority Alpha!"  
  
"Put it up." Ulysses said. Now what could possibly warrant a priority alpha code in peace time, he wondered? A section of the swirling holographic tube of slipstream was replaced by a expanding window. Fleet Admiral Ross' face appeared, looking drawn and pale.  
  
"This is Admiral Ross to all active Imperial vessels. At 17:46 this afternoon, the Terran Empire was brutally attacked. The target was Terra herself, and the current death toll is horrendous. In a terrorist attack, close to two billion men, women and children were savagely murdered!" A gasp of shock went around the bridge. The dark part of Ulysses howled in triumph deep in side of him, reveling in the death of so many of the enemy. Yet the rest of him was horrified at the loss of life. The good part of him clamped down iron control lest the darkness surface. Ulysses suppressed a shudder as he realized just how much the dark side of him approved of the attack. It sickened him to know that part of him actually could desire such a thing. Though even the good side in him wanted to see the Terran Empire wiped out, the deaths of so many innocents wasn't the way to do it.  
  
The image of Admiral Ross paused, looking as if he were struggling to keep his emotions in check. He quickly succeeded and continued. "The attack was centered at San Francisco and the Council Tower in particular, but affected all of San Francisco and some spaceborn targets as well. Nearly all of the Council Members were killed in the attack, with only Chairman Greg Betare and Councilman Jack Chambers surviving. Though this is a horrific tragedy, I urge calm. Those behind this dastardly attack shall be exposed and brought to justice. More information shall be released as it is found out. Admiral Ross out." The com screen shrank back to oblivion, leaving only the serene vessels of 2nd Fleet swarming through slipstream.  
  
"Admiral T'var to Captain Ulysses." T'var's voice came from an expanding com window. It was not surprising that T'var wanted to talk with her Flag Captain. It wasn't every day that two billion souls died, and the fact that the true culprits were as yet unidentified only made it worse.  
  
"Ulysses here Admiral."  
  
"I want the fleet to change course."  
  
"Let me guess, Sector One perhaps?"  
  
"Very clairvoyant of you." The Vulcan deadpanned as only that species can. "I believe that we will be needed there shortly."  
  
"A hunch Ma'am?"  
  
"Vulcan's don't believe in hunches Captain. It is merely a strong statistical probability." T'var said, almost haughtily.  
  
"Understood." Ulysses eyes would have glittered with mirth if the cause for the course change hadn't involved the deaths of two billion souls. It was a hunch all right, just try getting a Vulcan to admit to it though. "Shall all ships proceed, or should the most heavily damaged ones be turned over to Starbase 665 to begin repairs?" The Vulcan steepled her fingers as she considered the question.  
  
"Have the most heavily damaged ones proceed as planned to Starbase 665. The rest shall reform and increase to best possible fleet speed for Sector One."  
  
"Of course Ma'am."  
  
"Very good. T'var out." The com window closed to nothingness.  
  
"Com," Ulysses said, "open a channel to the fleet please."  
  
"Channel open."  
  
"This is Captain Vanguard. In light of the recent Alpha Priority communiqué, the Admiral has decided to revise our orders. All vessels less than 65% operational or with critical repairs that only a shipyard can take care of are to proceed on to Starbase 665 as planned. The rest of us are to proceed to Sector One. The Admiral feels, as do I, that a little retribution is called for, and Second Fleet shall be on call to help mead it out." An animal like growl of agreement coursed through the duty officers surrounding him. A lot of them had friends, and some even family at San Francisco. Ulysses understood their hunger for vengeance more than they would ever know. "Ulysses out."  
  
- ISS Athena, Flag Bridge, Two and a half weeks later, Five days out from Sector One -  
  
"Admiral, we are receiving an incoming alert from Starfleet Command. It's addressed to you personally."  
  
What now T'var thought. The scant few rumblings heard over the hyper com so far were bad enough. High ranking Imperial officers implicated in the terrorist attack. Attempts on both Chairman Betare and Councilman Chamber's lives, with the attempt against Betare succeeding. What could happen that hadn't happened already.  
  
"Put it up." The com window expanded on the holo display, showing a Vulcan Fleet Admiral. "Admiral Selek, to what do I owe this unexpected message?"  
  
"Admiral T'var, is your fleet still enroute to Sol system?"  
  
"Yes, Second Fleet is on course and on time." T'var cocked her head to one side slightly and raised a solitary eyebrow. "Why?" In typical Vulcan fashion, Selek didn't beat around the bush.  
  
"There is a massive fleet converging on Sol. It is made up of Klingon, Romulan, Cardassian, Breen, Gorn, Mirak, Lyran, Ferengi and numerous other minor empires long thought vanquished. Where they gathered such a mighty armada is unknown, but they will be at Terra and Vulcan's doorstep within two days. Current fleet units can only slow them down, not stop them. How soon can you be at Sector One?"  
  
"If we accelerate to maximum velocity, we shall be there in two days, five hours and fifteen minutes, but it will require leaving our slower vessels behind. 1/3 of our current operational combat strength will be left in our wake."  
  
"That cannot be helped. I am ordering you to accelerate to maximum."  
  
"I understand."  
  
"Selek out." The com channel died.  
  
"Orders to the Fleet. All vessels are to increase to maximum attainable velocity and proceed on course to Sector One."  
  
- The Octagon, Terra -  
  
Jack stared at the latest fleet status reports, a weary hand rubbing his face. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, yet it had only been nearly a day since the horrid truth was known. How strange that the fleet he had tried so hard to eliminate was now the most substantial attack force coming to his aid. Second Fleet was a known hotbed of banned thought, no matter how loyal and powerful their battle records might be. Their removal would both further remind the populace that the universe was a hostile place and remove a possible threat to his grip on power. The bulk of Second Fleet would be in Sector One would be here in slightly under two days, yet it remained to be seen what even their added presence would do to stem the enemy advance.  
  
Already, they had retaken all of their pre conquest territory and were beginning to advance into adjacent sectors. Worse yet, they had attacked Regula One, utterly destroying it and all records the R&D station contained. While a new base for the creation of Genesis torpedoes would eventually be established, it would take time to properly screen the personnel and more time to build the weapons themselves. It was time that the Empire just didn't have. All fleets that had been sent against them had been defeated, with many loosing their ships to the enemy in the process. He finally threw down the PADD in disgust. It was only through generous application of his iron will that he didn't scream at the universe for playing such a cruel joke against him. Here he was, leader of the most powerful faction in the galaxy being brought low by slaves and criminals. The fact that he had "predicted" just such an attack made it all the worse. The public believed every thing he said without question now, just like he had hoped when he started leaking selective parts of his plan to them during media covered Council Sessions. Then, before the terrorist attack, no one had wanted to believe him. Now, when he had been proven right, and had the citizens eating out of his hand, the attack was too large and powerful to stop.  
  
"Damn that sneaky bastard!" He swore at the alloy walls of his suite. "Damn him to hell! He knew all along what he was doing. You thought that it was a deal with the devil, but you thought you were the devil didn't you Jacky boy. Well he taught you different didn't he." Jack's blood shot eyes narrowed and his mouth sneered into a self-loathing smile. "As you sow, so shall you reap. The Terran Empire forgot this, dropping its guard. As a result, the conquered peoples of the galaxy have risen up to strike us down like we did to their fore fathers." Jack's com screen chirped.  
  
"Councilman Chambers." He said, his practiced public mask slipping back in place as he activated the com.  
  
"I believe that we may have had our first bit of good news in a while sir."  
  
"What the devil are you talking about?"  
  
"An Akira (U) class has just reported in, the ISS Wellington."  
  
"So, what is so great about that, there are tens of thousands of Akira class vessels serving across our space. What makes this one so special?!" It was all Jack could do not to snap with all the venom he could muster. His irritation must have shown despite his effort, for the Rear Admiral on the com screen gulped and continued with the point quickly.  
  
"The Wellington's engineer was experimenting with some minor modifications to her deflector array when Sector 19 was attacked. His ship was hit by the energy draining weapon, but it suffered no ill effects."  
  
"WHAT!" Jack shouted as he bolted upright out of his chair.  
  
"She's transmitted the modifications its engineer had executed. They appear to be the cause of the new weapon's nullification. They are relatively minor changes. They should be able to rapidly be executed aboard every other ship in Starfleet."  
  
"Do that! Immediately!" Jack grasped the news like a drowning man did a piece of flotsam.  
  
"Aye sir." Jack cut the communication off mid sentence. He sat back down in shocked silence, barely able to breathe for a few minutes. Slowly, a smile began to play at the corner of his mouth. Then it expanded to become a grin. A sharp yip of laughter exploded into a near hysterical laughing fit. The forces still left to the Terran Empire would hold. They were to strong, with the enemy still consolidating his gains and forced to defend his recently acquired systems to devote his full strength to crushing the Empire. What he had been able to send had been bad enough, but now they were denied their secret weapon. There would be no more steamrolling of Imperial positions. The Line would HOLD by God! And if this little object lesson in Terran Empire's enemies didn't force even his most vehement detractors into his side, he didn't know what would. The end result, while not as good as he had originally planned, would still catapult him to Emperorship of what would remain the single most powerful government in the galaxy. This so called Grand Alliance would be nearly as powerful, but they would be dealt with in time. Petty squabbles, which Section 31 had played upon for years, would resurface once the new boarders solidified and former enemies found themselves with common boarders. And given time, that treacherous worm O'tole would be unearthed and called into account for what he had nearly done to the great Terran Empire.  
  
-Terran Empire 80th Fleet, Romulan/Imperial Front, Galorndon Core, One day later -  
  
"Now we get to see if these modifications work." The Wraith class ISS Warrior's Captain muttered softly.  
  
"Orders from the flag sir, all units are to engage in twenty seconds."  
  
"Drop cloak, raise shields and armor, divert emergency power to weapon and defensive systems. Bring ECM online and deploy the decoys."  
  
"Decoys away." As the young Lt. spoke, three probe like decoys were fired from the Warrior's foreword torpedo launcher. They moved out to a predetermined distance from the ship, then changed into near perfect replicas of the Warrior. The Warrior had yet to be refitted with the new holographic displays, so her Captain had to make due with the four massive viewscreens that ringed the bridge. The fore viewscreen showed the aqua tube of slipstream, but within seconds it slowed and faded to a normal star scape as Warrior and the rest of 80th Fleet dropped out of slipstream. 80th Fleet was a small, rapid strike force, consisting of three Wraith's, 50 Prometheuses, 20 Dauntlesses and 150 Soulwolf's. On the side and rear viewscreens, the other vessels of 80th Fleet were also powering up weapons and defensive systems and deploying decoys. Soon, the space around 80th Fleet was filled with ships, nearly tripling the fleet's size.  
  
These ships had all been upgraded with Slipstream drive, being on of the newest strike Fleets in the Empire. Jamming devices were spooled up to full power even as the Fleet Data Net began to share target info between the Imperial ships. Before them sat a secondary arm of the Romulan offensive into Imperial space. The Warrior's computer began to provide designations before the Romulan's brought all their own jamming online. Tentatively, there were close to 50 of what command had started calling the D'deridex class Warbird's, 80 Griffin's, 30 Shadow's and 100 Shrike's along with a handful of Breen, Cardassian and Gorn vessels.  
  
It was a powerful fleet, but the Imperials had surprise on their side. Launching their initial attacks from a range where the enemy appeared as mere pinpricks of light visually, a massive wave of quantum's spat from tubes. Light Romulan units, mainly wings of Shrike's and Griffin's swung around from their patrol routes to engage the Imperials. Many of them had been outfitted with the energy-dampening weapon, and they expected to soon add some more Imperial vessels to the growing Romulan fleet. 


	53. Chapter 51

- CHAPTER 51 -  
  
- Terran Empire 80th Fleet, Romulan/Imperial Front, Galorndon Core -  
  
Even as the first wave of Imperial Quantums raced out towards the clustered main body of Romulan vessels, the perimeter scouts volleyed their Breen energy dampening weapons at the Imperial vessels. Most targeted decoys, the ships they were mimicking melting away as their holoemitters and sensor signature generators died. Six targeted actual vessels. They contacted and penetrated shields as usual, but that was the extent of usual for this attack. The targeted ships didn't stall, as the Grand Alliance had grown accustomed to. They kept right on attacking, their powerful phaser arrays targeting the Romulan scouts and burning them down with practiced efficiency.  
  
"All right!" The Warriors captain shouted, his voice going over the cheer from nearly every soul on the ship  
  
The Imperial strike fleet rushed onward towards the now active and maneuvering Romulan fleet, launching volley after massive volley of quantums and getting only light, ineffecutal, uncoordinated return fire. Close to 100 Quantums slammed into each targeted Romulan, whittling away the shields of the D'deridexes and Shadows as the intervening distance dropped to energy range. The enemy had grown complacent, forgetting that some Imperial vessels possessed slipstream drive and grown to confident in their wonder weapon to protect them. 80th Fleet descended on the still forming up Romulans like a pack of wolves on a helpless heard of sheep. The maximum impulse attack run brought them to knife range with the Romulans with frightening rapidity. The enemy was still trying to get their units into combat formation when the Imperial fleet crashed into them.  
  
Soulwolf wings and the Wraiths spat a carefully choreographed phaser lance volley into the enemy fleet as they closed, their powerful orange beams either gutting or mortally wounding their targets. The Warrior closed to visual range of the Romulan fleet. Her captain selected two targets, both D'deridex Warbirds. The Warrior streaked between the two Romulan vessels, executing a continuous barrel roll as she came through between them. Her powerful capacitors were rapidly drained as she laid into both Warbirds at once, scouring their shields away with near continuous phaser strikes and PPC bolts. With the shields gone, the orange red beams clawed at the hull and armor of the two D'deridexes. They replied with a few bursts of disruptor bolts, but it was a pitiful reply to the savage mauling they were being handed in return. The first Warbird vanished in a fiery explosion as her antimatter storage pods detonated. The other was cut nearly in half, her port double nacelle wing torn away and her power failing as the Warrior streaked past. A heavy photon spat from the rear tube, slamming into the derelict and finishing what the Warriors phasers started.  
  
Nearby, Soulwolfs were sending everything they could at their targets. Steady streams of amber/red Phaser beams, yellow/orange bolts of Pulse Phaser Cannon and blue/white blobs of Quantum Torpedoes slammed into the Romulan's shields, causing them to shimmer green with the absorbed and redirected titanic energies released against them. But they could only hold out against the inevitable for a short time. The Soulwolf had been designed as a small, quick build Battlecruiser killer, and the small Shrikes and Griffins of the Romulan fleet died in rapid succession.  
  
It wasn't all one sided for the Imperial Fleet however. Some squadrons of the Romulan Fleet did get them selves sorted out enough to get a small portion of payback. The D'deridexes and Shadows spat silver lances of energy from their single emitters in their beak like prows. The Mauler beams bludgeoned into their targets like battering rams. They were thankfully few and far between, and the Romulan's data net was still coming on line and not fully interlinked, causing more than a few of the survivors to target the same enemy and waste their beams on a dying target. One Wraith, the ISS Constitution NCC 1700-D, the latest vessel to bear the honored name and battle record of the original ISS Constitution, died as two maulers intersected with the area of space it was occupying from either side. The left one hit from slightly below centerline of the primary hull, vaporizing nearly half of the massive arrowhead including the bridge, leaving a ruptured and molten crater edge in its wake. By act of the Demon Murphy, the kinetic transfer of the first Mauler strike forced the Constitution around till it intersected with the second Mauler that had been spoofed by the Wraith's ECM into a shooting a near miss. The right had side of her secondary hull was spun into the beam, just aft of the twin port nacelle pylons. A good bite of the stricken Wraith's secondary hull was chewed away, causing the right hand side nacelles to spiral away from the dying capital ship as secondary explosions crawled across the exposed face of its twin wounds. A Shrike closed on the crippled Wraith as it shed lifepods, pouring disruptor bolts into the derelict. The remnants of the Wraith disintegrated even as the Shrike met a similar fate when five Soulwolfs fired alpha strikes into it.  
  
Another Wraith, the ISS Hades, was struck a glancing blow by a Mauler beam on its upper port nacelle, tearing it away from the rest of the ship and throwing nearly every unsecured soul on board to the deck. The heavily damaged Wraith spat back defiance, even as it prepared to withdraw. Phaser beams and PPC bolts streamed out from her as she retreated to slipstream with one nacelle gone midway up the pylon, the broken, shattered stump trailing drive plasma like blood in its wake. Its departure was punctuated by a Soulwolf being split in half by an explosion, disruptor bolts stitching molten craters on both halves as they tumbled apart.  
  
By now nearly all of the Romulan's D'deridexes and Shadows were either drifting hulks or expanding energetic plasma. A Gorn Heavy Cruiser, its rectangular, sharp cornered construction swinging on its target as it chased after it at full impulse, salvoed a massive volley of plasma torpedoes from its foreword tubes. The powerful warheads were the latest generation, close to one gigaton in destructive power each, putting them on par with a Pulse Phaser bolt but with the ability to home on an evading enemy. Twelve were launched and closed in on the Warrior, guided unerringly thanks to the Gorn's active ECCM. The Warrior's decoys did their best, but they only managed to lure three of the warheads away to mutual self-immolation. The other nine slammed home into the Wraith's already weakened rear shields.  
  
Sparks flew across the Warrior's bridge as the massive warship rocked under the sudden assault, and the holodisplay above her captain flickered but remained active.  
  
"Damage report!"  
  
"Aft shields now down to 20%. Diverting emergency power to the regenerators. Aft ablative armor generators down to 40%. Regenerating to 100% in three minutes."  
  
The Warrior's captain looked down at the running tally of the battle on his side panel. With the Hades' retreat, taking the Admiral with her, command devolved to the Warriors CO. Despite the probable occurrence of multiple drone kills, nearly all of the enemies Battleships were gone. 80th Fleet had done what they had set out to do.  
  
"Order the Fleet, withdraw to Starbase 34, were done here for now." The ship rocked again as a fresh plasma torpedo salvo, this time a full 12- torpedo spread, slammed into the weakening rear shields. "Tactical, scratch that itch for me would you?" The Warriors captain said as his hands weaved in the air, selecting the attacking Gorn Heavy Cruiser as a primary target.  
  
"Aye sir!" The Warrior's tactical officer growled eagerly from beyond the distortion of the holodisplay.  
  
A shuttle-sized gap appeared in the rear generated ablative armor, and a Heavy Photon with a Matter/Antimatter warhead was spat into space. The gap in the armor closed after its passing. The massive torp flew towards the Gorn Heavy Cruiser. Realizing the danger his craft was in, the Gorn commander shifted his fire to the Heavy Photon. But the torpedo was heavily armored, and the range was so short that the Gorn's phasers and disruptors had only gotten half way through its armor before time ran out. If the Gorn had had a Plasma Torp to fire, it would have been saved. But it had just finished salvoing them at the Warrior and the tubes had only just begun reloading the next volley. If the Cruiser had been more maneuverable, it would have survived as well, for Heavy Photons weren't nimble by any stretch of the imagination. But the Cruisers design philosophy was one of ruggedness over nimbleness. The Heavy Photon detonated just in front of its shields, the white flare from its activation silhouetting the nearby enemy vessels. The Heavy Photon generated shield planes in a precise patter, lasting just long enough to direct the full fury of the blast at the helpless Gorn Cruiser. The front half of the ship was turned to atoms, but as a true testament to the class' thick skin, the aft outer shell, gutted on the inside though it may be, remained largely intact despite the warheads best efforts.  
  
The remaining vessels of 80th fleet jumped to slipstream even as they shot the final bursts of anger from their weapons. The entire engagement had taken only 10 minutes, and it was the first decisive Imperial victory of the war. In exchange for one destroyed and one heavily damaged Wraiths, 29 destroyed and 10 damaged Soulwolfs, 11 destroyed and 5 damaged Prometheuses and 13 destroyed and 18 damaged Dauntlesses, the Imperials had destroyed (allowing for usual drone destruction ratios) 49 D'deridex class Warbird's, 23 Shadow's, 44 Griffins and 67 Shrike's. Most of the Battlecruiser kills were confirmed ones, for they had been done before the enemy had gotten organized and brought his ECM and Wild Weasel decoys fully online and deployed. One enemy Fleet was obliterated for acceptable losses, and what was more, the Terran Empire now had a perfect defense against the Grand Alliance's new wonder weapon.  
  
- The Octagon, Terra, 10 hours later -  
  
Jack sat with a glee filled smile on his face in the Ops command chair. What had looked like would be the final battle of the Terran Empire only a few hours ago had turned into something else. Upon hearing the news that the shield modifications worked, some Admirals had taken their fleets on the offensive. Though they had met with success, they had eventually ran into opposition to heavy for their small strike fleets to cope with and been forced to retreat back to friendly space. Both sides had reacted quickly to the new developments, but as the known fleet dispositions now stood, neither side possessed a decisive enough advantage to press on in their attacks. The odd strike fleets from both sides still sniped at each other, but the enemy had brought up a surprising amount of prefabricated defensive installations to add to those that they had liberated from their former master's service. The Grand Alliance had succeeded in both reestablishing their respective empires as well as expanding them beyond what they once were. While that wasn't as good as crushing the Terran Empire, they would settle for it for the time being. The reborn empires were settling in behind massive fortifications, and all recon in force sent to survey Qo'noS, Romulus, Cardassia Prime and the rest had been driven back with heavy losses in the outer system. Section 31 units would have to be dispatched for an accurate picture of what was happening there to be drawn, for only their phase cloak would allow them to penetrate the thick defenses springing up around the reborn empires homeworlds.  
  
But that wasn't cause for Jack's smile. Once the true scope of what had been lost to the Barbarian Alien Horde had sunken into the public's consciousness, they had been terrified. No one in all of the Empire's long history, not even the Borg, had done as good. Sure the Imperial/Borg war had generated considerably more casualties, but by and large, that war had been fought in the distant Delta Quadrant, far away from Terran colonies and core worlds. This war had seen a staggering loss in core and colony worlds to mere slaves, and it had shocked the Imperial populace to its very core. The time was now ripe for execution of the final phase of Jack's original plan, far more so than he had ever dared hope for.  
  
Jack schooled a look of sadness onto his features, it wouldn't do to have the public see him smiling at a time like this. Once it was satisfactorily in place, he activated the com systems pickup, sending his face out to every public pickup in the colonized Empire.  
  
"Fellow citizens of the Empire." He began gravely. "As recent events have unfortunately proven, the hidden enemy fleet that I repeatedly warned the Terran Council about has finally stepped out from the shadows and pushed us out from territory that has been ours for generations. The former Council didn't have the stomach to do what needed to be done. All of this tragedy could have been prevented if my words had been heeded while there was still time to solve the problem easily. But my words went unheeded, and now the problem has grown beyond something that can easily be fixed. High-ranking officers in the Empire's service have been corrupted and brought under the influence by the Empire's enemies. Vanquished foes have risen from the ash heap of history to again threaten the Terran Empire with total destruction. The very heart of the Empire, Terra herself, has been struck by these enemies, resulting in the deaths of billions including nearly all of the Terran Council. These are truly dark times for the Empire, I will not lie to you, I have never lied to you." The statement came easy thanks to the long years of practice honing the skill in Section 31.  
  
"Even when the other Council Members call me a fool and a rabble rouser, ostracizing me, making me the laughing stock of the Council, I still told the truth they didn't want to hear. You all know this. I am telling you the truth now. It was the divisiveness of the Council that allowed our enemies to grow strong, to strike at us and succeed." Jack growled, letting false anger sparkle in his eyes. He went on, rising both in volume and passion with every sentence. "Strong leadership is required to right that mistake! Strong, undivided leadership is required to ensure that it never happens again! Strong, undivided, unwavering leadership is required to put the Barbarians in their place and reaffirm the Terran Empire's predominance in the galaxy!  
  
"I approach you now, as a lone servant of the Empire who has always done his best to protect and advance her. It is my belief that what the Terran Empire needs now is an Emperor, and I ask you now, as free citizens of the Empire, to affirm me as such." One could have heard a pin drop on the hundreds of thousands of worlds of the Terran Empire. The citizenry had expected something important to be discussed when the sole surviving Council Member of the Terran Council had scheduled a trans-Empire communiqué. But the had no idea that this is what Jack Chamber's had had in mind for the calls topic. As Jack finished his plea, small forms came up on every personal PADD and Com terminal in the Empire. They were similar to the voting forms for civic officials, but the choice now was of far greater consequence than a mere Mayor or Judge.  
  
For what seemed like an eternity, nothing happened. Then, on every planet in the Empire, a roaring cheer went up, and numbers began to flood in from all far-flung outposts and planets. In mere seconds, it was clear that the civilians in the empire solidly backed his request, just like Jack had known they would. They were sheep lost in the night, looking for a shepherd to help them and watch over them. He was now that shepherd, Emperor of the Terran Empire, still the single most powerful polity in the known Galaxy (Aside from the isolationist Voth, but they didn't really count on the Galactic stage). And he had gotten there without conquering the Terran Empire and forcing the citizenry to accept his rule, the Empire's citizens had handed him the Emperorship on a silver platter. Aside from some relatively minor (in the long run) unforeseen side effects, his plan had unfolded exactly as he had envisioned. Now there was no way the Terran Empire would fall, for he had altered the prophecy, changed the course of the Empire, barring the events it foretold form occurring. There was only one source of power in the Terran Empire now, all internal divisiveness was a thing of the past. The Prophecy would not, neigh, now COULD NOT come to pass.  
  
"On behalf of the Empire, I thank you for exercising your wisdom and making the right choice for the future of the Terran Empire." Then Jack closed the terminal. The long, hard laugh that followed its termination was dripping with Machiavellian contentment. **************************************************************************** **  
  
- TO BE CONTINUED IN TERRAN EMPIRE: UNITY - 


End file.
